Raising the Barre
by blueoleandar93
Summary: "Who'd have guessed that the NFL's most recent MVP would become a dancing queen? No one, I'll tell you that. I don't understand it. He works so hard in a respectable sport to… what, frolic around like a fairy with that flowery excuse of a man that he's probably having an affair with? I mean, it's a mess. It's a trashy mess," said the reporter. This is the story of that trashy mess.
1. Tendu, Flex, Grands Jeté

**A/N: It's been a while. Like... seven months. And in that time I've been hibernating, sacrificing small animals, selling my soul to Abbadon, drinking the blood of my enemies... all of that so that I could cook up this bad boy. **

**After a Dancing with the Stars marathon I had while I was sick, I lucid dreamt this thing up. So, yeah it's kind of totally a parody of Dancing with the Stars.**

**_It will be updating once a week_. Every Sunday night, a new chapter will go live and this story will be about twenty chapters long give or take.**

**_It can also be read on AO3!_ That website will be updated on _Mondays_ instead of Sundays because the author style is harder to integrate and it takes a bit longer!**

**All my love,**

**Blue**

_**P.S. I don't give a rat's ass if you don't like the story, honestly, I don't. I'm uploading it for my own personal enjoyment and for others whom have expressed interest. Don't like, don't read. All flames will be deleted and fed to my dog Fifi, so you might as well not waste the energy needed to bitch at me.**_

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER ONE: Tendu, Flex, Grands Jeté

The crowd was cheering, music was blaring, and the scene was spinning as he was being hoisted onto the shoulders of several sweaty, burly men. Fireworks were going off. Shredded blue, orange, and white papers fluttered to the ground and everybody in a hundred foot radius of him was screaming in joy. After Derek Morgan's forty foot sprint to the touchdown as the clock ran out, the Chicago Bears had just won the Superbowl by three points.

The screen on the large television flickered as the volume went down significantly and Derek turned his head from the TV just in time to see his girlfriend Jordan toss him the remote and sit gracefully on the white velvet couch close beside him in one of Derek's large white button ups. She ran a hand along his tee shirted chest and lay her long haired head onto his shoulder, looking up at him with her big brown eyes, "Hey, MVP."

Derek grinned at the sight of her and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, "Hey, stranger."

"Are you sure you want to quit football?" she asked, "It's your passion, baby, you've told me so many times."

Derek looked down at her wearily, "Yeah, but, I'm getting up there in age. I've already won a Superbowl, played for thirteen years, and have the prettiest girl in the world on my arm. What more can I want?"

Jordan pushed her hair behind her ear, "There's always more. You're only forty."

Derek gave her a look.

Jordan corrected, "_Forty-ish_. All I'm saying is, you shouldn't give up. The Derek Morgan I know wouldn't hang up his cleats to go knit sweaters in a rocking chair somewhere just because someone tells him he's too old to continue living his dreams."

Derek replied, "I've already made my decision. My contract is up. I'm officially retired. As long as Modell's still sells my jersey, I'm not washed up yet."

Clooney's large feet clicked across the hardwood floor as Jordan laughed, "Derek, they sell _McNabb_ jerseys there. Do you really trust Modell's?"

"Hell no," Derek replied, grinning as Clooney brushed his furry tan colored head against his leg, "Looks like it's time to feed my buddy."

Clooney barked and licked Derek's denim covered knee.

Derek stood and rubbed behind the dog's ears, "Come on, boy. You want Jordan's dinner? I'll give you Jordan's dinner. Yeah, you're my best friend."

Jordan called after him, "You feed that mutt my salmon and rice, I will put him in a pound. I swear to God."

"Huh? What? Give him all of it? Okay," Derek joked, continuing barefoot into the kitchen in his roomy loft as he and Clooney walked past the long stairway and that God awful Aztec mask that creeps the shit out of him, but Jordan won't for the life of her get rid of.

She added back from the living room, "You do know that I'm licensed to carry a weapon, right?"

Derek strode to the top cabinet above the silver sink and replied with a smile, "Bring it, girl. I ain't scared of you." The thing he loves most about Jordan is that she's super scrappy. She looks sweet, but underneath that caramel exterior is a sexy, smart, snarky woman whom can start clever banter with him that can go (and has gone) for days on end. They enjoy each other's company immensely, joke with each other hourly, and the sex is amazing. Well… honestly, it's subpar at best, but don't tell Jordan he thinks that.

They've been together for three years now, and it's all been great. She surprises him with her fantastic cooking, treats him well, and pays for her own shit—her being an FBI agent and all. They support each other and have exchanged "I love you's" on several occasions, just… you know… not recently. But, that's okay, because it's still relevant.

Derek's sisters adore her, and they go out once a month to get their hair and nails done together to girly bond. She's not Mrs. Morgan's favorite, but his mom will come around soon. She just hasn't seen how happy she makes Derek. Which is immensely. Did he say that already? Because he's happy. Happy, happy, happy. Fuck, Derek's so happy that sometimes he forgets altogether how happy he is and gets depressed about where his life is headed whenever he thinks of her. But, that's normal though... right?

Grabbing the big bag of dog food from the cabinet, he ripped open the reseal-able seam, walked over to the edge of the kitchen table and poured a generous amount into Clooney's bowl. The dog barked with glee again and rewarded Derek by barreling into the back of his knees. Derek nearly lost his balance and caught himself on the kitchen counter, catching a sudden glance of the kitchen television to see a long haired man dancing with a slightly inexperienced woman. He twirled her around the dance floor as if she were weightless and Derek was transfixed. He stood up straighter and leaned his forearms onto the counter to stare at their work. The man's footwork, technique, and style was past beautiful—it was _art_. His breath caught in his throat as he imagined himself like that. Dancing and wafting across the floor like a feather, his hard lines and strong façade traded for an effervescent decoupage or something like that.

He leaned closer to the television and watched as the man led the woman around the rectangular stage and loved every second of it. He was beautiful, crisp, smooth as shit. He led the girl around the stage with such a softness and reverence and power that she looked as if anything could happen and he'd just dance her into safety. The guy didn't seem to even have to think about it either. His moves were natural, simple, in his every cell. Wow. Look at him _go_. Derek wants to meet that man, Derek wants to know that man. Fuck it, Derek it wants to _be_ that man. When they finished the dance, he found himself jerking upward and clapping in earnest along with the crowd.

Jordan shouted from the other room, "Are you done with that dog yet? It's been like an hour."

Derek ran from the kitchen and into the living room, "Jordan! Jordan! I know what I want to do now!"

Jordan rolled her eyes at him and hissed out, "Boy, if you don't calm down, I swear to God. You're yelling like the damned house is on fire. I don't want to have to beat your ass to next week."

* * *

And that's how Derek ended up here, in a large white room with a group of Olympians, musicians, and actors… waiting to get paired with a professional at the headquarters of "Dancing with the Stars".

Not all of them recognized him, thank fucking God. While his head has swelled considerably since he had become a starting quarterback in the NFL, he's gotten kind of sick of marriage proposals, sexual propositions, and babies being thrust into his face for signing. Derek will utter an "And, I love _you_, random citizen", but he draws the line at putting his John Hancock on an infant's skull. Isn't that unsanitary?

"So, who are you in for?" the woman sitting next to him asked.

Derek glanced over at her to get a face full of blonde hair, sparkly glasses, and pink accessories, "Um… what?"

She giggled, "Which professional dancer do you want?"

Derek shrugged, "Uh… Peta?"

"You don't seem so sure," the woman laughed.

Derek shrugged, "Well, it's not like I'm going to get Doc or anything, right? Dude would have me looking like a swan in a damned freshwater lake."

She giggled excitedly, "I wish I had the common sense to want the 'Prince of Ballroom' to dance with me, but I'm in for Gleb. He's a dreamboat, you know? But… sitting here with you, handsome, I just may change my mind."

"Well, in that case, gorgeous," sticking out a hand, he introduced himself with a flirty grin, "The name's Derek Morgan. Starting quarterback of the Chicago Bears. Well, _ex_-starter anyway."

She took his hand, "Penelope Garcia. I'm in the two-man band 'Pen and Kev'. It's kind of like 'Matt and Kim', but more… Quantico grunge."

Derek confessed, "I have no idea who you are."

Penelope laughed, "Oh, thank God. I don't know you either. Which baseball team are you on again?"

Derek shrugged it off, "Football, actually. I was a member of the Chicago NFL team. We won the Superbowl this year."

Penelope added, "And my band topped the charts thrice this season. How can we be so accomplished and still have not a clue who the other is?"

Derek patted her shoulder, "You wanna get a drink after and fix that?"

She whimpered, "Boy, do I. But, I'm taken…"

Derek shrugged, "Me too, but I like you too much to let that stop us. Let's be friends."

The door on the side of the room opened and everybody jumped in their seats as a large bald man in a "Dancing with the Stars" tee shirt called out, "Okay, dancers, greet your students! Stars to the side wall! Remember to look all surprised when you see them on your first rehearsal, okay? The public likes that. _Shouldn't be that hard_ since half of you are actors."

Derek's breath caught in his throat and he started to follow Penelope to a little lazy line up. As the double doors opened, all of the stars lined up on the left side of the room and tried to look as presentable as possible. Penelope adjusted her posture and pushed her boobs up enthusiastically. Derek began to laugh and composed himself horribly, still in hopeless chuckles. Then, the door barreled open and the professionals stormed in with just enough time for him to slow his laughter and give off his most charming smile.

Whoa.

All of them we so… _thin_.

They commanded the room with their loose limbed strides and raised chins, the confident fuckers. Derek felt kind of small alongside them despite his looming height and generous BMI. Derek took a breath and watched as the beautiful Peta Murgatroyd walked in, third behind the ever sexy Derek Hough. Her hair shone in the fluorescent lights, her blue eyes sparkled, and he couldn't wait to hear that silky Australian accent pour from her mouth as she teaches him to Rumba or some shit.

The professionals lined up on the right side of the room. Derek made eye contact with Peta and winked. She looked at him with appreciation and he smiled candidly. Her eyes slid right past him. Fuck. She glanced down at a card in her hand and it was only then that he noticed that the professionals didn't have their choice of stars. Oh, duh. Of course the producers picked for them. That only makes sense.

Derek's stance faded a little bit when he realized that his appearance no longer mattered at the moment. Whomever was saddled with him would already see him at his worst as he pussyfooted his way through combinations and turns and shit, so, they oughta get used to it now. The professionals started to walk forward. Peta chose a man with a cowboy hat and a sexy grin. When he opened his mouth to greet her, Derek noticed a deep south accent. Yeah, she wasn't leaving that guy for Derek. No way in hell.

Having brushed up on the last season of the show over the past few weeks, Derek fancied himself an expert on the professionals and settled with Sharna as his close second. She was strong and sexy, and she walked as so. She knew the was incredible, and she should... she was. This girl could rule the world if she wanted to. Sharna kind of scares Derek too, which would definitely come in handy when time came for him to buckle down and learn his stuff. With her, he's less likely to embarrass himself on live television. She walked up to a man with a peppered hair cut into a buzz. Whatever. She always gets the failures anyway.

Penelope squealed as the tall, dark, and handsome Gleb Savchenko lifted her hand and kissed it. He said in his endearing Russian accent, "Hello, my beautiful belle. I will be your instructor."

She squealed again, "тпру!"

Well, wasn't it nice to see all of these people enjoying themselves? Derek puffed up his chest and glanced toward his feet. Lord knows who he's going to get. He doesn't remember many of the female professionals, so at this point, it's dealer's choice. He nervously bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, giving his problems to God. _Please, dear Lord. Don't give me a Karina..._

The steady sound of a cleared a throat appeared and said before him, "Um... are you Derek Morgan?"

Derek looked up and looked into large hazel eyes that were just barely higher than his. Derek's voice trapped in his throat as he kept eye contact. No way. No. Fucking. Way. Brown curls reached toward the soft jawline on the face of the man that he had watched sail across the dance floor months ago. This was the man that changed everything. And when Derek says everything, he means _everything._ After the fame wore off, Derek planned to spend the rest of his pitiful existence withering away to nothing, gaining weight on his couch and pumping out a kid or two with his hot, but mediocre, girlfriend so that his life might mean something other than the shiny trophies on his , instead of shoving Twinkies high-speed into his face, he's here.

The world renowned, unprecedented, LEGENDARY dancer smiled nervously, "Hi, I'm Doc Reid, your dance partner."

Derek pulled back for a moment and deadpanned, "You've gotta be shitting me."

Doc replied with a shrug of his small shoulders, "I wish. Apparently viewership left much to be desired last season and the production team has decided to throw in a wild card to spice up the show."

Derek paused, "And _we're_ the wild card?"

Doc pursed his lips, "Trust me, I'm not too crazy about the idea either. Not that I have anything against you, I'm just not a fan of being used as a pawn. At least make me a knight. They have cool swords."

"Nice," Derek chuckled, "Cool chess reference by the way. You play?"

Doc nodded enthusiastically reminding Derek shallowly of a small puppy given the opportunity to jump onto the couch for the first time, "Yes! I was the president of the chess club in college."

Derek grinned in the large room as the noise swelled with dancers getting to know their partners, "So, you're a nerd?"

Doc let out a goofy laugh, "Man, you have no idea. Why do you think they call me 'Doc'?"

"That's not your first name?"

Doc shrugged inside the sweatshirt again, "No, my given name is Spencer, but no one really calls me that. You see, before I danced, I was a perpetual scholar. When news of that got out, the dancers around here called me 'Doc' because I managed to earn a few doctorates before I traded in my lab coat for tap shoes. It was a joke, but before I knew it, the name stuck."

"How many doctorates is 'a few'?"

Doc replied, "Three."

"Holy shit."

Doc scratched behind his neck, "I seem to get that reaction a lot."

"I would start to expect that, man," Derek took a big breath and confessed, "This is going to sound ten ounces of crazy bait, but... I kind of worship you."

Doc's eyebrows furrowed, "You… you do?"

Derek answered, "I loved how well you danced last season, man, it was incredible. It really was. I forced my mom to watch three seasons in a row with me. Dude, I got Hulu for you. Then, I decided, hell. I can do this too, right? How hard can it be?"

Doc started to laugh, "Once again, you have no idea."

"Bring me your worst, kid," Derek grinned, "One more question. What do you prefer to be called? Doc or Spencer?"

Doc shrugged, "Choose whichever you want. I answer to everything but, 'Hey, asshole'."

Derek laughed, "Okay. Cool. I picked a name."

Spencer asked, "Which one?"

* * *

Okay, fuck calling him Spencer.

Derek's decided to call him Satan.

This jerk is forcing him to do stretching through barre work. Of course, Derek didn't previously _know_ what barre work was before he met Spencer. But, now, after three and a half hours, he has a decent fucking idea of what it is. His left hand is permanently fused to the waxed wood that was plastered to the mirrored walls, and, boy, does he know what barre work is now. Spencer stood opposite him and barked, "Back straight!"

Derek hissed under his breath as he corrected his posture, "I fucking hate you."

Spencer growled, "I heard that."

Derek spoke up with as much sass as he could muster, "I couldn't give three quarters of a _fuck_ if you heard that or not."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "You seem to enjoy that particular swear word and I haven't an inkling as to why."

Derek groaned, "I don't even understand you most of the time. Why do you talk like a seventy-year-old man?"

"Straighten your knee!" Spencer snapped, "Tendu! Flex! Tendu! Flex! Tendu! Flex—watch the knee—tendu! Flex! Now rise up demi!"

Derek wobbled uncomfortably and tried to let go of the barre.

Spencer launched himself off of the barre and rushed in front of Derek to answer back, "Are you kidding me?! That was horrible! I know you can do better!"

Derek hissed, "No, I can't!"

Spencer replied, "I've see your touchdown dance, okay? You leap like a damned swan. This right here, is laziness."

Derek growled, "What? Have you been watching my games to criticize me on my movement?"

Spencer paused and looked over at Derek, "…that's an incredible idea."

Derek gasped, lifting his head seriously, "Don't you dare."

Spencer nodded, "I will. Now, come on, demi like a man! Lift that arch, raise that chin, tuck in that fat ass of yours!"

Derek sucked his teeth angrily and recalled the movement perfectly as Spencer clapped along with the dumb sounding piano music in the back ground and shouted, "One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight!"

That went on for another half hour until Derek was draped over the side of the barre, sweating, red faced and pissed. Spencer patted his sticky back with a smile, "Excellent. Soon, you'll be a regular Gioielli. Now, onward with the lesson!"

Derek panted, "Wh-what? We're not done for the day?"

Spencer laughed, "We've only been here four hours. I haven't even shown you the dance yet."

Derek asked breathlessly, sinking to the hardwood floor, "What are we doing again?"

Spencer grinned excitedly, "The Jive! My second favorite!"

Derek sighed and brought his knees up to his chest, "Why do I have the feeling this is going to suck?"

"Come on, up and at 'em," Spencer leaned forward and grabbed Derek's arm, beginning to pull him up to stand and Derek looked right up at him as he noticed that this was the first time they had touched. When they met, they didn't shake hands—Spencer said something about pathogens and bugs and genius drabble. For the past three hours and change they've been in their first meeting, Spencer just instructed. But, now, with Spencer's large, long fingered hands gripping his bare skin, Derek was feeling a bit light headed. Especially when paired with a glance in Spencer's warm, wide brown eyes.

Derek made it halfway through standing up before Spencer blinked and his eyelashes oh, so gracefully brushed against his high pale cheekbone… then Derek fell over. Unfortunately, the _train wreck of his life_ hadn't fully crashed yet until Spencer landed on top of him, all hard lines, firm body, and warm milky skin.

This time, Derek panted for a different reason. He felt Spencer's breath on his neck as Spencer laughed and started to push himself up, bringing them face to face. The man looked down at him with mirth at the fall, loose curls mussed and grin wide.

Oh, God.

No.

No, no, no.

Spencer can't be cute. Not now. Derek can't afford for him to be cute.

Well, in all actuality, he's not doing the man justice with "cute".

Spencer is supernova, holy fire, hand-on-the-stove _hot_. Spencer is Jesus Christ, stop the music, gibberish-inducing _sexy_. Spencer is earth shatteringly, jaw-droppingly _gorgeous_.

_Off_. Spencer needs to get _off_ of him. Now.

Pushing him up further, Derek scrambled out from underneath him in a sloppy tuck-and-roll fashion before laughing it off, "Sorry about that, man. I lost my footing."

"Yeah, no kidding," Spencer laughed from his spot on the floor.

* * *

Spencer sat across from him at the small round table outside of the privately owned coffee shop, chugging his second cappuccino like a goddamn choo-choo train. The day was bright, and the sun shone so warmly that it felt like melted butter on his skin. It was also fairly loud out, so they wouldn't be a target to potential fans. There were children running all over the place and parents running after them. Frisbees were tossed in the large green park to their left and it was all disgustingly beautiful out. Derek kind of liked it.

Spencer looked up from his baguette, cheeks full and chipmunk-like, "So, how are you enjoying it all so far?"

"You look freaking adorable right now," Derek chuckled, smile falling from his face as he realized that the sentence was meant for his thoughts and his thoughts only. Shit. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

Spencer thought nothing of it though, thank God, and gave him a puffy, closed mouthed smile.

Derek answered his question calmly, "To be honest, I'm not enjoying it. I hate it with every fiber of my being, but I think I'll stay. Paired with your talent and my stunning looks, we're going to kick some serious ass."

Spencer swallowed his large bite and took a sip of coffee, pushing a stray tendril of curls behind his ear as he replied lightly, "_Your_ stunning looks? I thought I was adorable. That has to count for something."

Derek winked halfheartedly, "Don't let it inflate your head, kid, we can only have one self-centered dick on the team and I've already nominated myself."

Spencer added, "Technically, we're the only team that _is_ capable of having two self-centered dicks on it seeing as we're the only same-sex team."

Derek deadpanned, "You do realize you just said 'dick' and 'sex' in the same sentence, right? Because that was all I got from you just now."

Spencer nodded enthusiastically and picked up his baguette, taking another bite, "Yeah, but I'm _adorable_, so… I can probably play it off pretty well."

"That's the last time I ever compliment you," Derek replied heartlessly, "Look at you… shoving those carbs in your face like a goddamned over-caffeinated Cookie Monster. There's nothing adorable about it. Matter of fact, it makes me sick just watching it. Clean yourself up. You're disgusting."

Spencer took a large bite and said with a full mouth, "You love it." Well, it actually came out like, 'Ooh uhv ih,' but who's really concerned?

Derek laughed and gazed back at his instructor with something in his eyes he hasn't felt since… hell, since he held hands with his first girlfriend Lindsay Kensington when he was ten. It's not like he's thinking about holding hands Spencer. He's not even considering dating him to be honest. Derek's just admitting that the kid was cute. Hella cute, actually. And when he was dancing, he was the sexiest thing to ever grace the Milky Way, but that's unimportant because Spencer is his professional pair dancer and is totally off limits. Besides, Derek's got a girlfriend.

He really seems to have to remind himself of this way too often.

Spencer shook his coffee cup gently to hear it empty, and stood, "Alright, I'm going to refuel, then we're heading back to the studio to work out the first combinations."

Derek called out suddenly, "How old are you?"

"Uh…" Spencer paused, adjusting his duffel strap, "Thirty-two. Why?"

_Oh, thank God._ Derek sighed out, "I was just wondering. You seem... _young_."

Spencer started to laugh and nodded, holding his empty cup loosely, "Oh, you were afraid of doing all of the sexy turns and stuff with someone half your age, weren't you? Don't worry, you've only got nine years on me."

Derek avoided his actual answer, "Am I really that transparent?"

Spencer headed into the door and poked his head out of it to reply, "Oh, yeah."

Folding his arms, Derek wondered what 'sexy turns and stuff' he was going to have to do with Spencer on live television that could get him in trouble with the cops if done with a minor. He has seen the show and knows that Jive can sometimes be hard and sensual and sexy in its combination of movements from several racy dance forms, but it's not that bad. But there are other dances. And those are... whoa sexual.

Man, he really doesn't want to be stuck playing sexy-sassy with this grown ass man on stage in front of America. His friends from the team were coming to see his first performance and cheer him on, and that could only give him a one-way ticket to being the laughing stock of Chicago. How did he not think of this before hand?!

Derek decided right this moment that there was no way in hell he was scampering around with a long haired man, no matter how cute said man was. Derek doesn't even care if it costs him the competition, his dignity is way more important than that—moreso, he doesn't want documented proof of how hard he could feel himself falling for Spencer. That was the _last_ damned thing he wanted. The 'sexy turns and stuff' would only fuel the fire.

He's pretty sure that it couldn't get much worse than this.

Derek pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, settling on Jordan's name. All he would have to do was press on the button to talk to her, and reassure himself of the love that they felt for each other. The love that could damned well save his reputation.

Then, he felt a warm, wet finger in his ear.

Derek jumped up and yelped, "Eww! God!"

Spencer laughed hard, clutching his coffee and leaning on the back of Derek's chair to expel his laughs, face full of wide grins, closed eyes, and pink cheeks.

"Oh, you're just hilarious, aren't you? Laugh it up, kid. Imma lose on purpose and get your ass kicked out of the competition first night," Derek hissed, leaning up to wipe the inside of his ear with the bottom hem of his shirt as the dancer straightened up, dabbing a tear from his eye as his giggles slowed.

Then, it got really quiet.

Derek glanced up at him while cleaning his ear out and noticed Spencer's poor job at hiding the way his eyes grazed along Derek's bare chest before his hazel eyes snapped back up to Derek's as he replied, "We should… uh, really get to the studio."

No way.

No fucking way.

Did Derek just say it couldn't get any worse? O, ye of little fucking faith. It can.

Derek let his shirt fall to his waist and grabbed his half empty water bottle and the remains of his apple buttered bagel, head swimming with 'what ifs'. During the last three hours, Derek knows he hasn't been any kind of attractive. Sweating on the barre, grunting out complaints, and—oh, my God that sounds positively wonderful. If that were Spencer doing all that before him, he would have been so turned on, he'd cry.

Well, that was in no way his plan. Spencer nervously pushed a curly hair behind his ear for the third time in the past ten minutes and began walking in the direction of the studio. It was embarrassingly quiet. Derek couldn't think of a thing to say and every time he spared a glance at Spencer, the kid was blushing and staring at the ground. Transparent, Derek's ass. Spencer's like fucking plastic wrap. The man ran his hand through his hair again, this time at the crown of his head, pushing it all back. Of course, it fell softly through his fingers like silk. Of course.

Well, fuck that. Derek's just going to ignore it.

Leaning back on his heels, Derek decided to speak up, "So… what song are we dancing to?"

Spencer adjusted his duffel strap again and replied, "Tighten Up by The Black Keys."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "I don't know it."

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear once more, "It's kind of… well, it's a song about trying to get a girl to like you by acting like a badass."

Derek laughed, "I can relate to that."

Spencer shuffled his foot and looked up at Derek, "Me too."

Derek asked, "You can?"

Spencer sighed with dissonance, "Yeah, there was a fellow professional dancer a couple of years ago. Lila Archer."

Derek gasped and replied, "Are you kidding me? Lila Archer?! She's crazy hot. Like unfair hot. I mean, seriously, man, _her_?! What were you thinking?"

"A lot of things," Spencer grinned as they stopped at a light, waiting to cross, "You may not believe me, but I played the hero and got her out of a sticky situation with a follow spot. She was really into me after that. After the show that night, she followed me like a lost puppy, but… she wasn't in love with me. She was in love with that I did for her. So, I did the responsible thing and let her go."

"Yeah... you seem like the 'high road' sort of guy." Derek replied, reaching over to pat Spencer's slender shoulder to wink, "Good on you."

Spencer smiled briefly, "I feel like an idiot sometimes, you know? I could have at least reaped some benefits from it, but my conscience is a cruel, capricious entity."

Derek took a breath as they crossed the street, "I kind of get you. I mean, I just lifted weights around this girl in the gym by my house and before I knew it, I had her hook, line, and sinker. She expected so much from me after that—she's a federal agent, so, you know, she's surrounded by men who've taken bullets for her and plunged headfirst into serial killers' traps. But, since I'm an idiot and my conscience isn't as much of a bitch, we're still dating now."

Spencer's smile faltered, "You have a girlfriend?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah."

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear once more, which was quickly becoming his tell, "What's her name?"

"Uh… shit," Derek blanked for a moment, "Ah, Jordan! Yeah, her name's Jordan, duh."

Spencer pushed open the door of the looming studio entrance, "Well, that's reassuring."

Derek shook his head and strode through the door, "No, I totally remember it. It just took a second, that's all. Don't judge."

Spencer joked, "I'm judging you so hard right now."

Derek pleaded as they headed up the steep stairs, "Come on, man."

Spencer repeated, "So much judgment. You can't escape it."

Derek whined, "You're the worst."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so that happened. I'd better see y'all back here on Sunday, lovers!**

**Hugs and kisses,**

**Blue**


	2. Hashtag TeamWildCard

**A/N: Derek Hough is in this chapter because I'm kind of in love with him alright jeez I said it god leave me alone let it go.**

**Smooches,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER TWO: #TeamWildCard

The night of their first dance came quickly; quicker than expected. After a long week of sweat, swears, and hard work, it was finally time to reveal what they've been working on to everyone in America, Canada, and some provinces in the British Isles. To add to the load, Derek and Spencer were also about to introduce the first same-sex team to ever exist on the show in the history of ever. But, no pressure, right? None.

Ha.

Ha, ha!

ROTFLMAO!

Derek's shoulders hadn't been this tense since he was starting to get scouted at Northwestern, and Spencer had noticed. By their fifth and final rehearsal in the studio, Derek was getting twitchy with all of the stress. When the rehearsal concluded and the two men looked out of the gigantic window to see the inky black sky reflected from the hardwood floor, Spencer sighed loudly and conspicuously. Derek let out a small laugh and glanced over to him, "Did you have something you wanted to share with the class, Reid?"

Spencer scrunched up his face and looked up at Derek with a mischievous look in his eyes, "I'm not supposed to do this, but..."

Derek's ears perked up at the sound of Spencer doing something he shouldn't, "But, what?"

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, "You're so nervous that you're making me nervous. Seriously, you're just like a big stress ball, dude, chill out."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Is this you trying to comfort me?"

"No. _This_ is me trying to comfort you," Spencer replied, standing and glancing toward the door to the break room, "Stay here, would you?"

Derek answered, "Uh... sure?"

Spencer smiled widely, the sun damn near shining out of his face as he did so. He sprinted to the other side of the room and made his way out of the door. Derek blinked and sat there on top of his duffle bag, confused as all Hell. Glancing toward the door, he flinched as he heard the microwave going. Okay, Derek is officially scared as shit. What's going on in there?

He spared another glance and Spencer was still in there, leaving him alone with his thoughts as he microwaved something all suspicious-like. Derek gulped. Please, Dear God, don't let whatever Spencer's doing in there be gross. Spencer looks like the mad scientist type. There are probably eyeballs in his fridge back home or something. Or maybe he doesn't even live at home. Spencer probably lives in the studio. That would explain why he always gets there five hours earlier than Derek does every day.

Derek heard a crinkling noise and Spencer hurried back into the room carrying a greasy telling bag. He paused. Then, Derek spoke, "Fuck outta here. That's not what I think it is?"

Spencer fell gracefully to the hardwood floor beside him and opened the bag, "This was used as stress release for generations, dating back to Pharoahs' time. Our ancestors before Christ used it to lift moods, spirits, and put hope in the eyes of commiserating men."

Derek laughed, "You're so weird."

"Thank you," Spencer raised the bag to Derek, "And here, I give to you... the great remedy, the international healer, manna from the gods..."

Derek shook his head and pushed Spencer's shoulder, "Get on with it, man!"

Spencer grinned, "_Comfort food_. To be exact, one Big Mac with extra cheese. You're welcome."

"Whoa! No way!" Derek reached in and grabbed at a cardboard box, holding that neat little treasure inside. He opened it and saw it sitting there, its pickles winking at them with a wry smile, "Dude, I haven't had McDonalds in fourteen years. I'm close to having a nervous breakdown. Are there fries in there?"

Spencer shook his head, "No, they don't reheat well, so, I got some McNuggets instead. Don't worry about anyone finding out, I got the cameras shut off early so no one will no I did this. Just... don't tell the producers that I encouraged an unhealthy diet. And they're not called nervous breakdowns anymore, the new term is 'major depressive episode'."

Derek wrapped an arm around him, "Boy, you're alright."

Spencer smiled up at him as Derek mussed his hair, "You think so?"

Derek pressed his forehead to Spencer's, "I know so. Wait."

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes, "What?"

Derek moved his forehead off of Spencer's, "Why are you doing this? You were kicking my ass all week, man, there's no reason you'd be nice to me without there being a catch."

Spencer shrugged, "There's no catch. You just... looked upset. Nervous, anxious. I certainly wasn't helping by yelling you into submission every day; even though I was doing so for good reason. Your form was that of a diseased camel, your posture made me want to kill myself, you _stomp across a room_ for goodness sake—I had to break you out of that horrible, horrible habit, because I do not dance with Stompers."

Derek sighed, "Okay, okay, okay! I was a bad dancer. I know."

Spencer scoffed, "You're not a bad dancer. You actually have more potential than any of the other stars I've previously worked with. You're an athlete, you have conditioned yourself to work hard under pressure, sweat, push yourself, persevere! You are exactly the perfect clay to mold into a fine dancer. Thing is, to mold, one must pull off and press in what works and doesn't work, understand?"

Derek paused, "So, you molded me?"

Spencer chuckled, "Oh, please. I've barely begun."

Derek grumbled, "Christ..."

"I know, I know, Mister Moan Bitch Complain. It sucks to be you," Spence reached around and patted his back, "Now, eat. You've earned it. It won't make our looming task go away, but I promise you, it will feel awesome."

Derek grinned, "I'm so excited for this fricken sandwich, man."

Spencer rolled his eyes and pulled out of Derek's embrace, reaching in the bag, "You think I didn't get myself one too?"

And, so, the two opened the boxes of food and dug in. The room was mostly quiet for five whole minutes, save for the sounds of chewing and smothered moans. Turns out, Spencer ate like a linebacker—Derek should know, he was one once. Spencer pushed his hair behind his ears and literally put the sandwich on his face and _then_ started eating. It was gross, and boyish, and cute as Hell. Derek liked to think he himself ate with more dignity, but that was only minutely true.

The burgers were gone in a matter of minutes, and before long, Spencer was pulling out the box of nuggets. Glorious, glorious nuggets. All twenty golden and warm strips, sat in their own pretty little box. Derek reached for it at the same time Spencer did and their hands brushed. He could feel his face gathering blood as Spencer's warm, thin pinky collided with his. Spencer cleared his throat, "G-go ahead. You can take the first one."

Derek looked over at Spencer to see his slightly pink face with mustard smeared on his cheek and "special sauce" on his chin. Before he could get anything out, he began laughing. Spencer cocked his head to the side, "What?"

"You have a little something," Derek chuckled, gesturing to his own face, "Like... everywhere, dude."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and raising the edge of his blue Joffrey sweatshirt, "Darn."

Derek raised his hands, "Stop! That's gross, man, come on."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Please, we all do it."

Derek grabbed a napkin and moved toward Spencer's face and the dancer's eyes grew wide. Noticing what he was actually doing, Derek's face changed from "gotta get this thing off my buddy's face" to "why the hell am I wiping my buddy's face" in a split second. Derek paused the napkin in the air, "I probably shouldn't go through with that, should I?"

Spencer burst out laughing, a really geeky sound with chuckles and gasps and the occasional snort. Derek smiled easily, watching the man beside him fall apart in a pile of snickers.

It's been five days. And Derek's already fucked.

* * *

The deafening roar of the crowd pierced the crowded Red Room as all of the stars, dancers, make-up crew, and PAs were shoved into a 30x30 space. Spencer stood beside Derek, face powdered and eyelashes just a bit longer and darker than he remembered. He was quiet, and kept moving up and down. After glancing down, Derek noticed that he was flexing and releasing in a long loop of demi rises. He was nervous too. Derek leaned over, "Shaking in your boots, Puss?"

Spencer mumbled, "I have no clue what's going to happen when we get out there."

Derek glanced back, "Me neither."

Spencer scoffed, "I mean, I'm not scared or anything. I'm a professional. Dancing is what I do, it's just the whole... grabbing ballroom stereotypes and scissor kicking them into that gigantic, freaking hole-thing in '300'. You know? I could possibly be 'this is Sparta'-ing my career. Into the hole."

Derek chuckled, "Come on, man. You've been on this show since the beginning of time. People respect you!"

Spencer stiffened, "I wouldn't be so sure."

Derek patted his shoulder, "Well, when you feel down, just remember... we're responsible for setting the standard for the entire American perception of same-sex formal dance. And you're doing all of this with a straight-acting football player who's reputation is also taking a swan dive into Hades."

Spencer grumbled, "Yeah, thanks for that."

Derek slapped the shoulder and gripped it, "You're welcome, buddy!"

"Wait, did you just say straight-acting?" Spencer's eyes widened.

Derek raised his hand, heading away from him into the crowd, "Hey, Peta! Could you sign my abs?"

The two men were placed last in the line up after spending the better part of a half hour crammed into the Red Room. The little music came on and all of the couples began walking down the steps before them. Derek took a deep breath backstage and pulled on the collar of his costume—which was a white undershirt-like tank top, a pair of black dance pants that looked like Dickies, and black jazz shoes. Spencer's answering costume was similar, but instead of a white tank, he wore a grey, slim-fitting tee shirt with a tight black thermal underneath and his hair was pulled back sloppily. After days on top of days seeing the young man in baggy sweatshirts and zip ups, it was quite a shock to see how he was built. He's gorgeous, but very subtle about it. To the point where it seems as if he has no clue just how pretty he is. Spencer's body is slight, and seemingly fragile, but it's corded with a soft, thin musculature that comes with a lot of swimming, but his arms messed up that equation because he's got the beginnings of biceps that come with lifting things. It's probably all of that dancing, tightening up his core and raising women above his head puffing out his fragile chest and soft-looking arms.

Derek shifted on his heels before the stairs and watched as Penelope and her partner scurried up, nearly late for their "almost" cue.

She was wearing a sparkly pink flight attendant's uniform and Derek grinned at the sight of her. Penelope was a living breath of sunshine, and thank God for her. She didn't look not one ounce of nervous and hugged him the moment she saw him, "Hi! How are you doing, Tall, Dark, and Handsome?"

Derek wrapped his arms around the bubbly woman, her mood was infectious and catching, "I'm doing just fine, angel. Look at _you_, you look gorgeous! Turn for me, baby girl."

Penelope tossed up a hand and turned, giving him full view of her wonderful costume that was damn near made for her delightfully curvy boy, "Aren't I the prettiest thing you ever did see?"

Derek pressed a hand to his chest, "You're stunning, my love. A vision."

She giggled, patting her curls, "Oh, you must cease. You have one hour to stop that immediately."

Gleb tapped her on the shoulder and said calmly, "Our cue, Pen."

She waved and allowed herself to be led away by her handsome companion, "Ta-ta! Good luck!"

"You too!" Derek called after her, grin still plastered on his face.

Spencer watched after her as well, nudging Derek, "You two know each other?"

Derek shrugged, "Not really, no."

Spencer laughed and tugged on Derek's arm, "Come on. We're up next to walk."

Derek smiled over at him, "Let's do this thing."

He followed Spencer to the edge of the steps and they started down them. The lights were bright and blaring into his face. Derek kept his chin raised the way Spencer told him to, giving the judges a good first impression of him. Spencer walked beside him, letting go of his arm and they continued with the strategy they were going for: the 'dude buddies' strategy.

They aimed to give out the air that they were best friends; the type that played X-box over the other's house, picked up chicks at the bar together, and just happened to have passionate chemistry on a dance floor in front of a live audience every Monday. They cleared halfway down the steps as their names were called as a dance couple and the audience sucked in the _biggest gasp in the fucking universe_ as their unconventional partnership was revealed.

Derek's pretty sure that the room was entirely made up of unused oxygen by the way they held their breaths.

Spencer had told Derek that it would be a possibility that they'd react badly. He said, if they did, the two of them had to give out the biggest we-are-just-friends-don't-worry-guys-we-are-toates -sucking-it-up-for-the-camera attitude that they could. The last thing they needed was for the audience to see gayand get scared. That's why the producers were keeping their dances as quick and friendly as possible until they have nothing else but ballroom left.

Spencer playfully jabbed Derek in the shoulder and Derek chose to lean over and suddenly ruffle Spencer's hair, hearing his unplanned actual protest before pulling him into a shoulder hug that Spencer tried to escape as soon as they got down the steps. Growling and heading over to the line-up, Spencer pulled the hair tie out and placed his hair back where it was, "I'm going to kill you."

Derek grinned and stood beside him with the long line of dancers, "Not in front of the cameras, honey."

The camera man swept the lens through the group and they all made faces at it, including Derek and Spencer. The lights flashed twice and the cameraman raised four fingers, "Cut to commercial! We've got four minutes to get upstage, people!"

Spencer pushed Derek's shoulder angrily, "I don't like my hair mussed."

Derek laughed and pushed him back, "You didn't seam to mind Saturday night."

"Hi! Hi, hello!" Penelope poked her head between the two, "If you two want to cut through the miles of sexual tension between you so we can get up the stairs, that would be great. Just sayin'."

Spencer flushed and turned to the lighted stairs on the side of the stage and headed up them, Derek on his trail as the group followed them up to the balcony filled with couches and tables for them to sit at to wait their turn. The crowd was cheering as they made their way up the stairs and Derek heard a distinct group shouting his jersey number, "43! 43! We reppin' 43! 43!"

Derek glanced off of the edge of the balcony to see five of his teammates at the edge of the stage just as excited, and loud, and ratchet as can be. Nick, Liam, Marcus, and Kalil clapped as he looked over at him, Liam yelling, "Yeah, Derek! That's what I'm talkin' about, baby! You Tango with that white boy! Kick they ass! I see you, 43! I see you!"

"Ah, jeez..." ducking his head, Derek waved them off with embarrassment and entered the balcony setting. Spencer headed straight for the coffee machine beside the end table and Derek sat on the couch beside him, "You know, one day, you're going to get your blood drawn and all the doctors are going to find is creamer."

Spencer filled a mug and sat close to his side afterward, "I heard your friends. They seem nice."

"They seem it, don't they?" Derek looked over the edge of the balcony to see them still clapping and acting a mess, "They're the best. They'll humiliate the shit out of me though. With no thought to it."

Spencer smiled briefly, "I have a friend like that."

Derek asked, "Are they here?"

Spencer looked back and glanced off of the edge of the balcony, his smile growing wider as he turned back to him, "Yeah, he's shaking hands with your buddies right now."

Derek whipped his head around to see a tall man with a brown beard and friendly eyes, "Oh, he seems nice."

Spencer grinned, "Yeah, he is. We went to MIT together. He was getting his masters in Chemistry when I was getting my second Ph.D in it. He asked me to tutor him and the rest is history."

Derek chuckled and shouldered Spencer with a joking jibe, "So, you two are like nerd twins or something?"

Spencer shrugged, "Exes actually."

Derek looked back quickly and gave Spencer a confused stare, "Wait, so you two used to…"

Spencer nodded, taking a sip from his mug after blowing on it, "Oh, yeah. A lot. All the time. On every available flat surface. But, we decided we were better off as friends. Then, he met his wife Katherine, and one awkward best man speech later, it's still the best decision we've ever made. He's my best friend."

Derek understood the situation. He had gone through one similarly, except he was more on Spencer's friend's side. He confessed to him, "I get it. Me and Marcus over there, you see the one with the dumbass lightning bolts shaved into his crew cut."

"Yep," Spencer answered, glancing back.

Derek said simply, "Yeah, we used to mess around too, but it never really worked out like that. We're still bros, but truth be told, I kind of miss the sex."

Spencer sighed ruefully and dropped his head to the back of the couch, "Dude, I _know_ how you feel. Ethan was freaking incredible in bed—made me scream like you wouldn't believe—but relationship wise..."

Derek chuckled, "Couldn't be worse for each other?"

Spencer nodded, taking a sip from his mug, "Bingo."

Derek added, "Yeah, same. And it didn't take long for me and Marcus to figure that out too. We split pretty fast. Then, I met Jordan."

Spencer asked, "Speaking of, where is the famous Jordan? I'd love to meet her."

Derek's eyes fell, "She, um, well, she had a case. She's a federal agent, and they go on those a lot."

Spencer replied, "You're okay with that?"

Derek shrugged, "She's TiVo-ing it."

That made Spencer laugh, "Okay, that's cool. So, is my mom."

Derek grinned and teased Spencer as the crowd swelled and the theme music played on, "Aww, that's cute. You a mama's boy, Spencer?"

"A proud one," Spencer answered with a distant smile.

The first couple headed down the stairs to do the first dance of the night as the clip rolled of their week in practice. It was a country singer named Will, and his partner, the incomparable Peta Murgatroyd. They were delightfully goofy and predictably awkward at first, but of course Will was a stallion in disguise. The two performed a quickstep to Supermassive Black Hole by Muse.

It was incredible.

Will was like a freaking Greek god, and with Peta, he was the biggest competition ever. Derek swallowed nervously as he watched them dance. He soon felt a hand on his, squeezing gently. Derek looked up to see Spencer's brown eyes staring into his, "You're going to do amazingly."

Derek sighed, "But, Will's so good."

Spencer said stiffly, "Will can fuck off, okay? You're going to win this competition. Everyone else is just around to make this _seem_ challenging for you. Now, get your head out of your ass and win me my third globe."

Derek leaned his forehead against Spencer's, "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, obviously," Spencer said with a fond tone.

Derek felt something flutter deep inside his chest. Right now, sitting with Spencer and waiting to rock America's socks, Derek knew Spencer was right. If that man didn't ride his ass every second of every rehearsal, he wouldn't be nearly as confident as he was now.

The music slowed and they watched as Will and Peta were judged before the beautiful Jennifer Jaraeu, the expressive David Rossi, and the stiff, traditional Aaron Hotchner. David Rossi jumped up from his chair and pointed, "That's how we start off a season! That's how we do it!"

Shit.

Derek felt another squeeze on his hand, keeping him tethered to hope.

When the stunning first pair came up to be judged, Spencer released his hand and gave him a pointed look. There was less that he could do about it, but they were given strict instructions to be as buddy-buddy as possible. Even though they were just friends, holding hands and knocking foreheads wouldn't really give off that effect. Spencer scuttled away a few inches to move from where he was previously seated (which was practically in Derek's lap).

Will and Peta had a cute little banter before their scores were revealed. Turns out, the couple had earned themselves an "9" from every judge.

Double shit.

Stealing a glance at his dance partner, he noticed Spencer's eyes on the couple, clapping politely as he whispered under his breath, "We will crush you."

Derek felt a shudder go through him. Sometimes, Spencer's scary as all hell. This is one of those times. The couple sat close beside Derek and Spencer and Will winked at them, "I was so scared, man, I thought I was going to fall flat on my face."

"Clearly, you didn't," Derek said thickly, a smile on his face with absolutely no validity to it.

Will missed the rudeness completely, shrugging, "I know, right. Thank God."

Spencer paused, "Your accent sounds really familiar. Are you from New Orleans by any chance?"

Will turned and grinned, "Yeah, I am."

Spencer nodded with a smile, "My best friend is from there. He grew up in Indiana, but he can't shake that Southern twang, huh?"

Will laughed, "You can take the boy out of Louisiana, but you can't take Louisiana out of the boy, am I right?"

Spencer laughed along with Will, "You're so right."

Will continued and Spencer fed into his charm, pausing for a moment a few minutes in to check his phone. Derek's cell buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out casually to answer the call if there was one and ended up being a text message from a foreign number that said: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE, KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER –DOC.

A shudder went through Derek that was part fear, part pleasure. Yeah, Spencer was scary. And he liked it.

Before Derek knew it, it was there turn to do the walk of shame down the steps and prepare to dance as the clip rolled of their rehearsals:

Their first meeting was recorded along with other things:

**_The steady sound of a cleared a throat appeared and said before him, "Derek Morgan? Hi, I'm Doc Reid, your dance partner."_**

**_Derek deadpanned, "You've gotta be *beep*ing me."_**

**_Spencer replied with a shrug of his small shoulders, "That's what I said. Apparently our production team has decided to throw in a wild card to spice up the show."_**

**_Derek paused, "And we're the wild card?"_**

**_Spencer shrugged again._**

Then were their separate confessionals:

**_Derek sat in the tiny room and stared at the camera, "So... they put me with a dude."_**

Next, they cut to Spencer's confessional:

**_"I'm going to be ballroom dancing... with a male NFL champion," Spencer spoke uncertainly, "There goes a sentence I never thought I'd say."_**

Next they were shown during their first rehearsal:

**_Derek was leaning over the side of the barre, sweating profusely and swearing under his breath as Spencer forced ballet on him. _**

**_"Straighten your knee!" Spencer had snapped, "Tendu! Flex! Tendu! Flex! Tendu! Flex—watch the knee—tendu! Flex! Now rise up demi…"_**

**_Derek wobbled uncomfortably and tried to let go of the barre._**

**_Spencer launched himself off of the barre and rushed in front of Derek to answer back, "Are you kidding me?! That was horrible! I know you can do better!"_**

**_Derek hissed, "No, I can't!"_**

**_Spencer replied, "I've see your touchdown dance, okay? You leap like a damned swan. This right here, is laziness."_**

The next scene cut to the first time they had finished the dance, then the third as Derek tripped over Spencer's leg, then the end of the final rehearsal:

**_"Hit, hit, hit, hit! Yes!" Spencer exclaimed in the middle of the combination as Derek snapped his hips at the end of the side turn. Jumping up and down eagerly, Spencer shut off the music and jumped over to him, "We're going to get such a high score if you dance like that, man! Oh, my God! We have it in the bag!"_**

**_"Well, we can't count our chickens before they hat—whoa!" Derek's stance wavered as Spencer attacked him with a quaking hug and laughed, throwing his arms around the man, "Wow, okay. I'll take it."_**

**_Spencer pulled his face away from Derek's and said, "I'm so proud of you."_**

**_Derek scratched behind his neck, "Thanks. I mean, it was all you."_**

**_"No, it wasn't." Spencer punched his arm and jumped some more and held out his hand for a high five, "Quality. Pure quality, man."_**

The final scene was filmed right before the performance as they sat there in the interview room:

**_"We need to ask if we can get a new twitter thing. It can't be that encore tag, it's too generic," Derek said quickly, "America's tweets can save us here, and they're already going to be freaked out watching two dudes dance."_**

**_Spencer chuckled, "Probably because it's going to be like a gazelle and the Ugly Duckling prancing around together, henna?"_**

**_Derek grinned, "Me, being the gazelle of course."_**

**_Spencer laughed out loud, "You wish."_**

**_Derek shrugged simply, glad enough to get that reaction out of him, "You can cackle all you want, Doc, we still don't have a tag."_**

**_Spencer gasped and looked over at him, "#D_and_D. You know, like Derek and Doc!"_**

**_Derek rolled his eyes, "That doesn't come off the way you think it does. How about #wesleyandwoody."_**

**_"For the seventh time, Derek, you are not Wesley Snipes," Spencer shook his head._**

**_Derek's eyes widened, "Dude, I got the tag. This is going to blow your mind."_**

**_Spencer asked, "What?"_**

**_Derek grinned, "#TeamWildCard."_**

**_Spencer paused, "That's perfect."_**

**_Derek added, "I'm totally Wesley Snipes though."_**

**_Spencer tossed his hands up, "Fine, fine. But, I refuse to be Woody Harrleson."_**

The video ended, and Derek and Spencer stood beside each other on the center of the dance floor awaiting the opening cue from the announcer whom said simply, "Dancing the Jive, Derek Morgan and his partner Doc Reid."

The lights went up and the musicians in the back began to do their thing, the bass pouring through the speakers. Before the show, Derek and Spencer asked Penelope if she'd stand in for them as the object of their affections. She would just have to walk by and watch, and that she did. The men's movements were well-practiced and came easy, Derek had danced before. Hell, in Chicago when he was growing up, that was how things were settled. Either it was a fight, a shoot out, or a dance-off. Derek usually chose dance-off, and that's given him the freedom of movement, the sharpness of his limbs, the desperation sifting its way through each combination. Derek knows how to dance. It was the story that they were telling that was the important part, and that's what Spencer was pounding into him the past week.

Truth be told, it worked.

It worked well.

Their hands never touched; they didn't have to. They mimed it and used the moves found in Jive to do coordinated solo moves, so instead of ballroom dancing, they _partner_ danced. Great idea, right? It was all Doc.

The two were telling the tale of two men fighting over the same woman, their friendship crumbling over their lust for her. There would be moments in which they would push in front of each other to get in a move that was more difficult to manage than the next. During the guitar solo, there was even a small fight scene. In the end, neither of them got the girl, but sadly their friendship was in shambles.

Penelope exited stage left after the second chorus.

Their movements were more staccato, even though they shared that connection they had before. It was purposefully disjointed, one move happening—as Spencer says—point seven five seconds after the other. The ending moments of the song were quick and passionate. During the slowest guitar solo, Spencer and Derek facing each other and trying to get in a punch in a stuttered form as the lights flickered on and off to illuminate it, but their arms blocked the blows before they landed. And in the final second, Spencer smacked his hand against Derek's forehead and he fell back the way he was supposed to, a graceful backwards roll ending him on his feet a quarter stage from Spencer.

The music ended abruptly, the crowd clapping hard. Derek heard his jersey number screeched again from that same section of the audience as before. Spencer zoomed across the stage at Derek and tackled him into a hug. Derek patted his instructor on the back and mussed his hair one more time just to see that annoyed pout when he did as they headed toward the judges' desk.

"First two-man team on the show, guys way to go!" Jennifer whooped, clapping her hands and encouraging the crowd to join in, "As much as I hate to point it out, there was an issue with your footing on that fight scene, Derek, but, still," Jennifer flipped her blonde hair from her shoulder and fanned herself as the crowd calmed, "Can I just say… wow. I envy the girl you two were fighting for! Ya'll made me want to follow both of you home! Ladies, am I right?"

The crowd whistled and Spencer laughed beside him, blushing and resting his forehead on Derek's shoulder as if he were hiding behind it. Derek patted Spencer's back, wrapping an arm around Spencer's shoulders afterward, "Embrace it, man. America has spoken. We're hot stuff."

"Indeed you two are!" Rossi stood sassily, "We had a bet running that you two would be the worst of the group. I mean, come on, two men doing a choreographed Jive on live television? It was going to fail quicker than a third grader in a college course, but you two brought the fire! Derek Morgan, you are truly the gazelle, aren't you? You're a manly gazelle, scary gazelle, sexy gazelle, but a gazelle nonetheless. And, Doc. Lovely Doc. Fantastic job as always. Pat yourselves on the backs, because you are bringing the competition this season."

The crowd yelped and jumped, starting in a chorus of "43! 43! We reppin' 43! 43!"

Hotch raised a hand and the crowd stilled, "Jennifer was right. Your footwork _was_ a bit weak during the fighting scene and you faded in and out of character. That was quite noticeable. You have to work on staying in the moment, Derek."

The crowd booed.

Hotch continued, "But overall, it was a very innovative choreograph. Doc, it was quite interesting to see the way you broke down the Jive's simple movements and made it less of a ballroom style dance, and broke it into more of a tussle. It was easily one of the most unforgettable performances of the night, besides the obvious fact of your arrangement. Turns out Team Wild Card is going to be quite the threat."

The crowd cheered again. The team roared, "43!"

Derek scratched behind his ear, hiding his grin, and the host told them to go back up to the balcony to hear their scores. The two walked forward and Derek wrapped a sweaty arm around Spencer's shoulders and Spencer decided to do the same, beaming and red faced. They headed up the stairs and Spencer grinned, "You did great, man. Whatever happens tonight, you did great, okay?"

Derek nodded, and patted his partner's back as they greeted the second host whom asked, "How do you two feel about the performance?"

Spencer started, "Derek did so well just now, especially for his first dance up here. I'm super proud of him. Mostly because he listened to me screech at him all week and didn't break down in tears, but yeah. He did wonderfully."

Derek shrugged, "Oh, shucks. Don't even get me started, Spence. You kicked ass too."

Spencer laughed, "That's kind of my job, man."

The female host smiled, "Alright, now to hear your scores." They glanced at the large television that streamed the judges' cards. First came Jennifer. 8! Spencer jumped, under Derek's arm. Next came Hotch. 8! Spencer wiggled some more. Lastly Rossi. 9!

Derek pumped his fist in the air and Spencer screamed and hugged him around the waist as they jumped around in glee. The female host smiled to the camera, "Derek and Doc, affectionately referred to on Twitter as Team Wild Card have just earned themselves second place behind Will and Peta for the top score of the night. What a turn of events indeed. Now, back to you, Tom."

Spencer led him to the couch along with their cheering dance-mates. Will raised his hand to Derek and gave him a high five, "Congrats, man. Guess I'm going to be gunning for you next week."

Derek replied gladly, "Expect it back, bro."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Stay tuned for our week-long commercial break.**

**- Your Friendly Neighborhood Blue**


	3. Your Beauty Just Bitch Slapped Me

**A/N: This chapter ended up being over 10k... how, I don't know.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER THREE: Your Beauty Just Bitch Slapped Me...

Derek sprinted into the ballroom looking for Spencer. He couldn't find him anywhere, and this was the one room he hadn't checked. Elimination night was upon them and Derek was there with his costume and a change of clothes in a large duffel on his back, cell phone in hand. Gotta to hand it to him; the dude was prepared. Derek has everything with him... except his partner. Make up was going to start throwing a bitch fit soon, and he had to find Spencer. Now. He had checked the dressing rooms, the bathrooms, the hallways, and the balcony. He found several co-stars and dancers, but Spencer was nowhere to be found.

The band was setting up and tuning, the lights were running rehearsal settings, and Derek should really be in his costume by now. But, the more pressing issue seems to be his missing dance partner. For now, it's going to have to be denim and a sweatshirt he tossed over his head after his shower.

Looking over the edge of the balcony, he noticed a handful of people in the audience and spotted him.

Spencer at the time was talking to a very familiar-looking woman in a yellow dress and curly red hair. Derek paused… was that his Mom? Oh, God. No. No, no, no. Every time his mother meets a friend of his, she gets all judgey. He's seen her pick grown men into a pile of snuffles and unshed tears, she does it every time. She pulls people apart in her mind fifteen times over and then decides that they're not good enough to spend time with her precious son. Then, Derek's left to pick up the pieces. His mother even did it to his girlfriend! _Dear Lord_ did she Mama her to death when he first brought them to meet. The woman spent the whole brunch pursing her lips every time his girlfriend spoke, narrowing her eyes and taking judgmental sips of her glass of Pinot Noir. Considering the trouble he got in during middle school, it makes total sense for her to try to watch out for him, but come on now. He's a grown ass man, dammit. He's forty... ish and he damn sure can pick his own friends pretty well by now.

He jogged down the stairs and tried to stop the oncoming horror Spencer was sure to be subjected to once his mother decided that she didn't like him. I mean, Spencer is an obnoxiously brilliant, socially awkward, caffeine addict. His mother was going to tear him apart and give him a verbal ass whooping he would never forget in ten seconds flat. Soon he'll be scooping his partner off of the floor with a pot full of Ginseng tea and a sizeable Zeta-Jones movie collection.

Racing across the ballroom floor to approach them as quickly as possible, Derek made it to her side within the minute, "Mom, hey? What are you doing here so early? House opens at eight."

She set her big hazel eyes on him and wrapped him in a gentle hug, "I just had to get here as soon as I could, Derry Bear. You did so well last night! I'm so proud of you!"

Spencer chuckled, "_Derry Bear_?"

"Say one word about it, kid, and I promise you they'll never find your body," Derek said as his mother pinched his cheek and patted his head.

Mrs. Morgan grinned, "I was just talking to your lovely dance partner over here, and I must say that he is the most well-spoken, well-mannered, well-bred young man I've met in years."

Spencer waved off her compliment, "Oh, Fran, must you flatter me?"

"Fran?!" Derek glared at him after he got over the initial shock of his mother actually _liking_ somebody genuinely, "You've made friends with her?"

His mother winked at Spencer and patted the side of his face, "Of course! He's coming to dinner with us after tonight's ceremony. I also brought some peach cobbler that he might be interested in. Doesn't that sound nice, Doc?"

Spencer waved his hand around, "You really don't have to invite me, it's fine. Go spend time with your son."

She pressed, "Please, I insist. Oh, you know what would be great? Call up your mother and see if she's available to come as well. I'd love to meet the woman who raised such a fine boy. We'll make a night out of it! My treat."

"Um… my mom? She's… well, she's... she can't really…" Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear nervously. His tell. He was nervous.

Derek nudged Spencer, "Oh, come on. It sounds fun. Besides, if my mom gets to grill you, it's only fair yours does the same to me."

Spencer fingered a curl on the other side of his head and filed it behind his right ear, "She can't… my mom, she's… she's inordinately indisposed."

Derek deadpanned, "In English, Spence."

Spencer's eyes darted to Derek's, pleadingly, "She's sick and she can't make it."

Oh, crap. Now he's made Spencer nervous. He didn't mean to pry—honestly. Spencer suddenly seemed as if his mother was the last thing he wanted to talk about, and there was probably much more to it that the man wasn't getting into right now. By the state of his mussed and tousled hair, Derek could tell that Spencer wanted them to drop the subject. So, Derek took the conversation in his reigns and changed it, because his mom is kind of… weak when it comes to social conscientiousness.

Derek shrugged it off, "Then, it can be just you me, and my mom going out tonight. Mildly embarrassing, but doable."

Mrs. Morgan laughed, "Just us three? Are you kidding? Des and Sare are parking the car. They're coming too."

Derek whined, "Come on, Mom, we talked about this."

"Derek's sisters adored your performance, and, Doc," she leaned forward, winking, "Sarah thinks you are quite the handsome man."

Spencer flushed and scratched the back of his neck as his newly exposed ears went red, "R-really?"

Mrs. Morgan patted his arm, "And she's very beautiful. I mean, she's my daughter so, of course she is. But, I'm just… you know, making sure you're aware that she's available."

Derek shook his head, "Must you pimp out my sister to every young man you meet?"

She chuckled and gave Derek a look, "Well, it's not like you or Des are giving me any grandkids."

Derek groaned aloud, "_Mom_. Could you please stop trying to coerce my dance partner into fathering children?! He's like twelve years old!"

Spencer folded his arms, "For the sixth time, Derek, I'm thirty-two. I just have a youthful face."

A very mousy looking PA with a clipboard and neatly combed hair scuttled up to them and cleared his throat, "D-Derek Morgan and Doc Reid to make up in five, Red Room in ten. We're on in twenty."

Derek grabbed Spencer's arm and tugged in the direction of the PA, "We gotta go."

Mrs. Morgan nodded, "You go have a good time, Derek. Make us proud! Smile big and keep that back straight!"

"_Mama_," Derek complained as Spencer started to follow him away and across the empty dance floor, "Jeez. Parents, you know?"

"Uh… yep." Spencer ran a hand through his hair. Nervous. Bad topic. Change subject.

Derek jumped quickly as they made it up the steps, "Oh! Duh. I wanted to show you our tweets. Man, we are totally not going home tonight. I mean, we're one of the top couples either way, but still. America really caught on to us!"

Spencer smiled weakly over at him as he headed up the steps, "Told you, didn't I? The 'dude buddies' tactic always reinforces feelings of kinship and brotherhood in the viewers. We definitely pulled their heart strings with the playfulness and casual banter."

Derek treaded the steps beside him, pulling his phone up to his face, getting up his twitter app, "Dude, wait until you read this. It's going to blow your mind how much everyone liked us last night. Ah, we're going to kick Will's ass with all of this love I'm seeing here. His Southern twang can't compete with that 'kinship and brotherhood' crap everybody couldn't get enough of last night. Did you check your Twitter, man?"

Spencer shrugged as they entered the balcony, "I don't have a Twitter."

Derek paused and looked over to him, "What do you mean, you don't have a Twitter?"

Spencer answered, "I don't get it."

Derek sighed, "There's not much to get, Spencer. Sixth graders tweet."

Spencer replied simply, "I'm not going to comment on that."

Derek continued along on their way out of the balcony and to the make-up room, "Alright, cool. Well, there's this thing on Facebook where you can—"

Spencer interrupted, "I don't have a Facebook."

Derek replied exasperatedly, "What are you?! Seventy?! No, scratch that. My grandma's eighty six and she has a Facebook. I've _never met_ someone without one."

Spencer pointed to himself, "Well, today's your lucky day. Ta-da."

Derek ran his hand over his face, "Tell me you at least have an email address."

Spencer replied, "I was forced to get one in grad school, but I don't use it unless I have to."

Derek shook his head, "You see, now I'm 100% positive you're a Martian."

Spencer nodded and tapped his finger against Derek's shoulder, "And that's just it. I don't get technology. I'm not a luddite or anything, it's just... all the buttons and clickies… it's weird to me. To be honest, I wouldn't have a phone if it wasn't absolutely necessary for my job."

Derek sighed, "You're weird."

"You say that every day. Is it suddenly supposed to have more meaning now?" Spencer laughed aloud, the sound goofy and uncoordinated. Derek got chills from it.

Sometimes, Spencer hits Derek with his cute. Actually the word "hits" is an understatement, its more of a bitch slap.

He sneaks it up on him and all of a sudden, it's like _bam_! Cuteness! Adorableness! Overbearing hotness! Spencer really needs to learn to quit it. It's distracting. You see, after Derek gets smacked with The Cute, Spencer just digs his annoying little ass in Derek's skull and the kid's all he can think about for at least a minute or two. Then, before he knows it, Derek's envisioning holding him close, dancing into the sunset with him, and dedicating his life to making sure Spencer doesn't push his hair behind his ears anymore. Real estrogen-filled crap.

As you can see, it's an inconvenience.

With squinted hazel eyes, Spencer chuckled off his last few giggles as they headed into the make-up room that was already filled with dancers and black tee shirted people wielding brushes and eyeliner. The first time Derek set foot in there, he told them that if they touched him with eyeliner or mascara, he'd go apeshit and burn the place down. They didn't believe him. Derek had produced a box of matches from his dance pants and grabbed one, pausing it in front of the book.

They haven't touched him with the stuff since.

Spencer didn't really give a shit about the make-up. He's been on the stage so long, trying to scare him away with any form of girly shit is like shooting bullets at Superman. He'd sit back and let them smear and puff and paint whatever they wanted on him. It was disgusting… and it's also kind of cute—but it's mostly disgusting. Derek sat beside him and they patted down his face as he scrolled through his phone, "Okay, Spence, at least hear this out, okay?"

"Sure, shoot," Spencer replied with his eyes closed as a woman patted something white along his eyelids.

Derek read aloud, " **derekmorgan43 we're lovin #TeamWildCard. The dance was incredible and you guys are hot-tastic. **And, here's another! **We need more because derekmorgan43 and Doc are it for me! I am officially on #TeamWildCard. **And a third. **#TeamWildCard need I say more? Last night was perfection. **GracieLacie66 says: **When are #TeamWildCard going to do something on the sexier side—**"

Derek gasped and gave Spencer a giddy look, "You should totally choreograph a dance with a make out scene! Do you know how much Twitter's going to blow up after that?"

Spencer said with a calm expression on his face as his other eyelid was smeared, "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Continue."

Derek teased, "You know you want some of this."

Spencer deadpanned, "Ignoring you, ignoring you."

Derek grinned, "Fine, whatever. You wouldn't be able to handle me, anyway. I'm a tonguer."

Spencer's jaw clenched.

Derek continued, **"Loving #TeamWildCard and their Black Keys song. It was fantastic. I voted! ; ****So much love for #TeamWildCard who did an amazing job last night. VOTE 'EM UP America! ; ****Marry me Doc you're so hot—**wait, sorry, that one's kind of pervy…"

Spencer made a disgusted face, "A stranger wants to marry me? Why? We've never met, union could be catastrophic."

Derek rolled his eyes, "I needed to introduce you to the Internet like seven years ago. Now, listen! I've got more. ZaynMaLICKme04 said: **The awesome #TeamWildCard kicked ass last night. Tell us derekmorgan43 are you and Doc best friends now?** Yep! And to my disgust, I think I just understood this person's username. Someone else wrote: **Let's all get on #TeamWildCard! A two-man dance pair is an incredible addition to DWTS!** Yes, yes, we are! **#TeamWildCard when will you ballroom?! I have a mighty need to see you two expand and show off that talent! **Spencer, that means Rumba. We need that. **Were derekmorgan43 and Doc not the hottest thing since the Proxima Centauri—**"

Spencer piped up with a chuckle.

Derek paused, "…what's so funny? What's a Proxima thing?"

Spencer smirked as a lady started pulling his hair into a loose ponytail, "It's one of the nearest stars to Earth at 4.243 light years away with a calculation of over 3,000 Kelvin!"

Derek added, "Okay, Geekasaurus Rex. That means..."

Spencer smiled and slowed his speech in a condescending tone, "It's really, really hot, Derek."

"Don't patronize me," Derek glared.

Spencer rolled his eyes and added, "Well, if you knew the basics of kindergarten astronomy, I wouldn't have to."

Derek winced as the make-up lady filled in his eyebrows, "Don't make me come over there and beat your skinny little ass. I'm already stressed out with all of this powder all over the place."

Spencer leaned his arm over and poked Derek on the cheek, "You won't do it."

Derek side-eyed him, "What on God's green Earth makes you think I _won't_ pummel you back to your first dissertation?"

Spencer shrugged, "Nothing, really. Besides, I wouldn't really mind. My Bio professor was really attractive. Prescription dual glasses and therapeutic Velcro shoes included."

Derek shuddered, "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," Spencer laughed, once more, bitch slapping Derek with his beauty again. Kid really needs to stop doing that.

* * *

Wow. Way to be assholes, Dancing with the Stars.

They sure as hell kept Derek and Spencer up in the air for long enough to scare the shit out of them. They didn't give a crap if Adam Lambert was singing his little gay heart out, or six deaf children were sponsored to dance for America. The two men were placed in the first group when they stood beside Penelope and Gleb, Will and Peta, and a couple made up of goth singer Emily Prentiss and the ever talented Derek Hough, and guess who got put under the "Uh Oh, You're In Danger" red light?

Spencer was _stupid_ pissed off. Dude ripped a cotton ball in half backstage after the red light shone down on them.

There was just no way that they could be put up for elimination. They were at the top of the leader board, America voted them up, they got a standing "O" yesterday. This made no sense whatsoever, and every moment that Spencer got to voice it away from the camera, he did. He was seriously grumped out. His face was scrunched, his arms were folded, he served up glares so sharp that one of them managed to maim the fabric of Derek's soul.

As the other three were put in the safe zone and the red light poured down on their heads for a second time, Derek could feel Spencer tense up beside him. Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer and the man rested his head on his shoulder. The crowd cooed a long, "Aww." They were officially up for Final Elimination. And Derek smiled to himself, thinking that this was total bullshit. Team Wild Card kicked every kind of ass last night on that floor. Derek gave it his all, and Spencer was fucking flawless as usual. The song was great, their tension was hot, and the judges placed them at the top of the leader board. They should be sipping coke in a champagne glass on the balcony right about now. But, no. America must have thought that a same-sex team was too gay and voted them down, despite what was going on in Twitter land—despite the fact that it's the twenty first century and people should be fucking over all of this hatred. For their information, the sexual tension between Derek and Spencer wasn't planned at all. They just met and Spencer was so… beautiful. Derek couldn't help but get a little misty-eyed at times. It's not his fault. Don't blame him. He didn't wake up one day and decide to have a random, pulsing, slightly erotic fixation on his dance instructor. _God_.

They had to sit in the balcony for the rest of the night, readying themselves to be sent to the chopping block. Derek was pacing and grumbly and tense, but Spencer was this quiet, terrifying entity that just sat in the corner and _waited_. Groups were saved over and over again, including the god-awful pairing of racist comedian Gordinski and his unfortunate partner Sharna. Spencer's anger was gaining momentum fast and Derek wishes it wasn't as adorable as it was. Spencer, with his little pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows just sat there in the balcony not speaking to anyone. The man was furious, and since Derek has his wits about him, he didn't approach him.

It was soon their turn to go up against two other horrible pairs and do the walk of shame to the back section of the stage with the failures. In a fit of nerves, Derek nudged Spencer's shoulder as they made their way to the stage area. Spencer turned and gave him a hopeless smile, nudging him back hesitantly. Derek grinned at the motion and it took all of his will to keep from taking his hand as they stood on the stage.

Spencer spoke under his breath the second the spotlights came on their way back down the steps, "You're not leaving this competition on the first night. I won't let that happen."

Derek whispered back, "I know."

The male host called an awful pair before them and the lights drowned the stage in red. Spencer grimaced and hissed, "If they let a fantastic dancer like you go because you were paired with me, I swear to God, I'm going to give the producers a piece of my mind."

Derek gasped, "Dude, no. This is your job."

Spencer replied, "Dancing is my job. Dealing with oppression from a prehistoric group of heteronormative apes is not."

The male host paused once more for a length of time which had to count as public torture and spoke in an ominous voice, "Derek Morgan and Doc Reid."

Derek and Spencer held their breath.

"You… are…"

Spencer let out a squeak of worry.

"SAFE!"

"Hallelujah!" Derek jumped up in glee and Spencer yelped, hugging Derek tightly around the middle and pressing a hard kiss to his cheek. Right in front of America. Derek felt his ears heat up. He should have been thinking about his reputation, the slew of hate tweets, and the crowd's response, but all he could think of for that moment was, '_God… Spencer has really soft lips_.' Spencer cleared his throat, pulling Derek out of his millisecond reverie, and they stepped away from each other. Derek scratched at the back of his neck and suddenly found his shoes the most interesting thing in the room, staring intently at them. The crowd laughed. Oh, thank God. They thought it was funny. Derek breathed a soundless sigh of relief.

The male host chuckled, "Well, you two sure are happy about this news, huh?"

Spencer nodded, face already red, "Yeah, you know. Another week and all. You can move on now."

The host started, "And, Doc, how do you feel about—"

Spencer spoke sharply, "Move. On."

The host raised his eyebrows and announced the failure of the team beside them and Spencer led Derek backstage to a quieter area with Pa's rushing by. Now with the other safe pair as they were, the men were no longer needed. On the other side of the curtain, the eliminated team was having their final dance, just something simple and easy to the rhythm of their first song. Spencer glanced at Derek, shame clear in his eyes, "I'm sorry I did that. I don't know what came over me, I—"

Derek waved it off, "It's fine, man, don't worry about it. I'm not sure if you remember—you probably don't even know—but me and my boy Marcus got in a little trouble with the press after we won our first NFL game together. He kissed me smack on the lips at the final touchdown."

Spencer gasped, "Holy shit."

Derek nodded, "Yeah, we nearly got pulled from first string due to the fuss it kicked up, but Marcus assured everyone that it was a 'heat of the moment' type thing."

Spencer asked, "What happened to your career? Did you come out?"

Derek shook his head vigorously, "Hell no. An openly gay National League player? I'd be signing all of my dreams away. Well… I would have. Nowadays, I guess it doesn't really matter."

"I guess it doesn't," Spencer replied easily, "But, since you have Jordan, you won't need to, right? I mean, I'm assuming she's gorgeous! And cool, and beautiful, and all... kickass Federal Agent. It's not as if you're going to be like... hooking up with some guy behind her back or anything. You won't need anyone else with all of her high-reigning awesome."

Derek inhaled sharply, "Yeah. Unfaithfulness isn't my style."

Spencer bit his lip, pushing his hair behind his ear in that telltale nervous tic of his, "Makes perfect sense."

"Why are you..." Derek paused, "Wait? Did you think that guy… would be you?"

Spencer shook his head and laughed nervously, pushing his hair back toward his ponytail, "No! No. _Me_? What, are you crazy? Come on, man. No."

Derek let a sly smile cross his face, "Cuz, it's totally understandable if you want me like that. I know I'm hot stuff, and sometimes we men can't control our sexual desires, so—"

Spencer glared at him, "Don't be a dick."

"Too late." Derek winked back. "Man, it's fine. I'm not going to stop being your friend or anything because of your giant crush on me."

Spencer pushed a loose hair behind his ear, nervously looking around the busy backstage to shush him, "Shut up! I don't have a crush on you."

Derek smirked and folded his arms, "See, now you're just flat out lying—which you're really bad at by the way."

Spencer hissed before storming off, "Oh, please, Derek. As if I'd have a thing for _you_ of all people. Trust and believe, I have better taste."

Derek called to him, "No, you don't. Don't fight it, baby, you know you want this chocolate."

Spencer continued to walk, flipping him the bird from behind his head.

Derek laughed and called, "You're meeting my mom by the dressing rooms at eleven!"

Spencer yelled back without turning, "Eleven fifteen! I have to get this glitter out of my eyelashes!"

Derek screeched, "Fine! Wear something that flatters your ass, sweetheart!"

Spencer waved non-verbally.

There was a type of reassurance about the wave. Even though they could yell and scream and curse each other out (which they've done several times in the past week), they still team together regardless of how angry they were at each other. Take now for example. Spencer is _a new kind of _pissed at Derek right now. It doesn't matter if he had or hadn't hit the nail on the head by insisting that Spencer was infatuated with him, he wouldn't have cared either way. Spencer was still going to dinner with his mother, he was still going to entertain his family that night, and he was still going to be there bright and early Wednesday morning ready to work Derek over at the barre until they're pissed at each other all over again. Then, they'll nail whatever dance was next. Then, they'll keep winning. At best, they'll have a globe. And then what?

Derek shudders to think.

Will their friendship deteriorate at the end of the competition? God—he hopes not. Within a week, Spencer has carved himself a little hole in Derek's heart when they part ways that remains empty and bottomless until they see each other again. Even now, Derek misses him and he knows they'll see each other again in a half hour.

Wait.

He's seeing Spencer in a half hour.

A skip to his step, Derek headed up to his dressing room to change and thought of how beautiful the young man would look all dressed up. Hell, Derek's only seen him in sweats that drown his frail figure like an ant in a baby pool. Maybe he'll wear something tight, maybe he'll let his hair fall free around his ears, maybe he'll recite something. Man, Derek loves it when Spencer rants about Physics, or waxes poetic and shows off his cute little brain. He's so geeky and quirky and his many talents just slap you across the face when you get wind of how incredible he is.

Derek closed the door of his dressing room and he paced, as his thoughts and feelings for Spencer overwhelmed him. He needed to call Jordan. He needed to hear her voice.

Calling her would set everything right again. Into a world where he doesn't lust after his dance partner, and he doesn't have to out himself, and where two very handsome, very compatible, very sexually frustrated men can meet and laugh and dance with each other and _not fall in love_. Derek whipped out his phone and set it on speaker as he reached into his duffel for his anti-wrinkle red cable knit jumper his mother bought him last Christmas and a pair of dark jeans.

The phone rang and he tossed off his stretchy top and pulled on his sweater in an amiable attempt to stay calm as the dial tone came through.

It rang and it rang and it rang.

Derek shrugged. Maybe, she's really deep into a case at… eleven o'clock at night. Wait, no. Time difference. It's one in the morning in Illinois, and by then Jordan's in a hotel even when she's working. But, Jordan always sleeps with her phone by her bedside. Always. Just in case someone calls, or needs her. She's always reachable. Even if she's kicking someone's ass, she'll have a phone in one hand and a gun in the other. After three years, he's not once had a bounced call from her. Not once.

He furrowed his eyebrows.

Maybe it's nothing. The phone's dead. It has to be.

No. If the phone's dead, there would be no dial tone. It would go straight to voicemail. This thing is ringing.

To make sure, Derek called again as he tugged on the jeans and sat by the table. The phone was answered in a hushed tone, "Who's this?"

Derek scoffed, "It's Derek Morgan, who the fuck is this?"

The man replied with a tired sigh, "None of your damned business, man. It's one in the fucking morning on a Tuesday. What's wrong with you?"

Derek was starting to get pissed now. Who is this man on the other end of his girlfriend's cell phone at 'one in the fucking morning on a Tuesday'? Why is he even in her presence this late at night?! Isn't she supposed to be on a case, sleeping right now?! She better as hell not be fucking this guy, or Derek swears to God, Buddha, and Allah that he will set it off in this bitch right… effing… now.

Derek continued calmly, "Is this Jordan's cell phone?"

"Yeah, why do you want to know?!" he replied angrily.

Oh, this guy is _way_ to defensive not to be boo-lovin' up on his girl. She is totally fucking this guy. Derek narrowed his eyes, his tone level, "This is her boyfriend of three years. Could you please put my beautiful, committed woman on the phone right now?"

The man paused, "Oh… shit."

Derek hissed, "'Oh, shit' is right, and you'll soon be shitting if you don't hand the phone over because I will take a plane to Illinois, find your ass, and hide you under the subway lines. Put my fucking girlfriend on the phone. Now."

The man began to laugh, "Yeah, I'm so scared."

Yelling into the phone harshly, Derek whipped, "You should be!"

"Fine," he chuckled darkly, before saying over his shoulder, "Hey… hey, hon. Some guy's on the phone for you. Says he's your boyfriend."

The phone was picked up quickly, and Jordan's slightly rough sleepy voice rushed out, "Derek?"

Derek swallowed, trying very hard not to assume anything, "Jordan. Who is this man, and why is he calling you 'hon'?"

She scrambled, "Der, it's not what it sounds like—"

Derek cut her off, "Don't you call me 'Der' right now, because _it sounds _bad. Now, answer the question, Jordan. Tell me what it is. I want to hear it from you. Are you or are you not?"

Jordan sighed, and he could almost see her exasperated face. The face she makes when she gets paged in the middle of dinner, the face she makes when Derek leaves his shaving cream on the bathroom counter, the face she makes when he overcooks rice. Now, it's all scrunchy for a different reason, and it's far from cute now. She answered him, "_Yeah_, okay, Derek? I'm fucking him. You happy?"

Derek growled, "Jordan?! What the fuck?!"

She trailed off, "I mean, you're cute and all, but I never see you enough. If I'm not on a case, you're at a game. If you're not at a game, I'm on a case. We're both always away, and we're not really worth the struggle to each other. Besides, it's not like you're all that good in bed anyway."

Derek added angrily, "Fuck you! I'm incredible in bed!"

Jordan deadpanned, "Is that all you got from it?"

"Of course not! But, you gotta admit. Last Saturday night, I had you screaming," Derek replied, "You called me '_Papi_' mid-orgasm."

Jordan scoffed, "I faked it."

"Who are you, woman?!" Derek started to pace, clutching at the bridge of his nose, "How long? How long have you been going behind my back?"

She paused, "I don't know, around five months or something now."

Derek blanched, "F-five months?! Are you serious?! You've been sleeping around for five months?!"

Jordan answered, "Yeah, I have. Look, Derek. You're a nice guy. I didn't want to dump you while you were hitting your stride in your whole football thing, okay? And you won. You got the trophy, you're MVP. Aren't you happy?"

Derek leaned against the wall and held back his confusing emotion, "But, Jordan… I love you. How could you just—"

Jordan chuckled angrily, "Oh, please. You haven't meant that for months."

Derek hissed into the phone, "Who are you to tell me how I feel?"

Jordan catted back, "Because you're Derek Morgan, okay? You couldn't love anyone if you tried! You're just this big, stone, impenetrable force. And that used to be hot, but now it's just sad."

Derek's lip curled, "What, so you're—"

Jordan replied flightily, "I'm breaking up with you, yes. We're over, we've been over. Now, it's just official."

"Oh, yeah? You're breaking up with me? Fine, sweetheart. I've got my eye on your replacement right now," Derek leaned off of the wall and growled, "So, you can get your '_fake eyelash_' wearing, '_crusty weave_' sewing, '_last season Prada_' carrying ass out of my house. Now. By the time I come back with my Mirror Ball, you'd better be gone."

She said loftily, "Whatever."

Derek added, "Or, I swear I will call the cops."

Jordan cantered, "Fine! Call the cops, Derek! Who wants your old, retired ass anyway?!"

Derek yelled back, "Obviously not you! I don't need your shit, okay? I don't definitely need you either! Now, two step it on out of my house, woman! Allons-y!"

Jordan screeched back, "What even is that?! You're such a weird-o!"

Derek growled, "Doctor Who isn't weird, you're weird!"

Jordan hung up on him, and he heard the dial tone. Derek roared and nearly threw his phone against the wall. But, that shit was expensive and his warranty was over. So, he picked up one of those cheap-ass water bottles that were all over his dressing room and launched it at the floor, watching it combust on the floor, exploding into shattered plastic and raining water.

Just like that, his relationship was over.

Three years of his life, he wasted on this bitch. Three years he would never get back.

Derek started pacing again, great. Now what was he going to do? He could afford the loft with or without her, but he'd have to make some cuts now that he's on pension. Soon, he'll have to get her off of the lease, and take her name off of Clooney's adoption sheet. Then, he'll have to get their pictures out of his house.

He'll start with his phone.

Derek unlocked his phone and found a few messages from Spencer.

[We're meeting downstairs in five.]

[Where are you?]

[Derek, I will come up there. Your mom is trying to pinch my cheeks into extinction.]

[I'm on my way.]

Derek growled and grabbed his black blazer, shoving it over his sweater. Great. Better act natural when his goddamn dance partner sees him with a smashed water bottle and eyebrows furrowed enough to cave in on themselves. How did his life become this? Just moments ago, he was joshing around with a smile on his face. Now? Now, he wanted to flip over every table in a five mile radius.

Angry, Derek clenched his jaw and headed to the door, grabbing his phone and duffel. The door opened as soon as he reached for it and Spencer hissed under his breath, pulling Derek by his sleeve, "Jeez, you primp like a woman. Come on, before we miss our reservation."

He looked over at the frantic man and felt a nearly invisible weight leave his chest. Spencer's hand was around his wrist now, warm and strong. Just like that, everything wasn't so bad after all. They rushed down the hallway past the groups of dancers, PA's, and backstage workers, Spencer talking a mile a minute about the millions of things they have to do before giving Derek a pointed look, "Are you even listening to me?"

Derek shook his head, "Nope."

Spencer rolled his eyes, forcing a curt laugh out of his throat.

* * *

So, here he was sitting with his mother, his sisters, and his dance partner at a Na'brasa. Derek's mother calmly sat beside him, ushering Desiree on his other side so that she and Sarah sandwiched Spencer. The football player was looking as uncomfortable as a man could be as his mother chatted Spencer up about Derek's diaper days with a smile on her face.

Spencer glanced over him hid his chuckle in his napkin, which was, just... so high class. Derek couldn't even be mad at the man, because of how freaking dapper he looked tonight. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, a grey waistcoat and a black tie, matching his suit jacket. Yeah, he had dark denim pants and worn Chuck Taylors on, but holy shit. Spencer could pull off a paper bag and make it look sexy, but tonight he was past stunning. He was straight up _effervescent_. And the napkin laugh was fucking killing Derek.

Derek looked away, reminding himself that he had a girlfriend before he remembered… he didn't have one. Sure, he was free now. But, as much as he knew he should be celebrating with alcohol and debauchery. He was mourning the future he could have had with Jordan.

He knows, he knows. She's a cheating hoe—the worst kind of hoe—but, with her, he didn't have to worry about having someone to come home to. Hell, he didn't have to worry about anything! He had a beautiful woman on his arm, he had a beautiful home with her, and most importantly, he didn't have to come out.

But, now all of that was ripped from him.

He doesn't know what to do now.

He hasn't a clue.

"… and then he came into the room with his pants around his ankles, crying and holding up an empty roll of toilet paper," Mrs. Morgan giggled.

The table laughed at his expense, and Derek barely registered it. His eyes were trained somewhere behind Spencer's head as his mind swindled into a tunnel of '_oh, God, what do I do_'. He felt an arm at his side. Des. She whispered into his ear, "You do know mom just told your cute instructor about the time you went streaking along the church pews when you were four?"

Derek shrugged distractedly, "Sure."

Desiree asked, "Are you alright? Usually you act like that never even happened."

Derek replied, "Jesus and the entire congregation saw my ding dong, there's not much I can deny."

Desiree rolled her eyes, "Pay attention."

Looking over to the group, he noticed that they were all in chuckles, staring at him. Derek let out a weak smile, "I was a toddler, guys. Everyone streaks at the potty age. Like, Spencer. Didn't you do stupid shit like that when you were four?"

Spencer scratched behind his neck, "I was… too busy getting beat up in kindergarten to do something like that…"

Derek laughed, "Why would you be getting beat up in kindergarten?"

Spencer replied, "Most of the kids couldn't read, so when I went in to class with a copy of The Great Gatsby, it attracted a couple of stares. Mom said they were jealous."

Derek's jaw dropped, "Timeless American literature at four? That's gotta be bull."

Spencer shrugged, "My mom was an English professor, and I was… gifted."

Sarah laughed quickly, "Hella gifted."

Derek smiled widely, "That's kind of cool."

Spencer's eyes widened, "Really?"

Derek added with a grin, "Not many people can say they mastered middle school course requirements during nap time."

"I hated nap time," Spencer grimaced.

Derek nodded, "Me too! Only the lazy Neanderthals enjoyed that. It cut into my play time."

Spencer looked over at Derek with amusement, "I felt the same way."

Mrs. Morgan quickly cut in, "Sarah hated naptime too! Didn't you, Sarah?"

"No, it was the best thing ever," she replied.

Spencer added with a finger raised, "Naps actually increase blood flow to the brain, and allow for healing and rejuvenation that usually only takes place at night. It's highly recommended. But, to be honest, I would just rather read and take a shot of espresso."

Derek pointed over across the table to him, "No, Mom, he's serious. This man inhales coffee like it's oxygen."

Spencer replied, "Not really. Oxygen eventually kills us with all of its toxins and impurities. Coffee's caffeine is like a conversion of energy the way it—"

Derek raised a hand, "You had me at oxygen kills us."

Spencer blushed and started to laugh, pushing his hair behind his ear, "I didn't mean it's _extremely lethal_. Just a little bit. I was curious one day and typed 'death' into a search engine, and as a result learned some really cool stuff..."

"And you wonder why you can't get a date," Derek chuckled. God, Spencer's so strange. A smile quirked up at the edges of Derek's mouth. It's refreshing.

Desiree suddenly perked up and asked, "How's Jordan doing?"

"Oh… Jordan?" he replied.

Sarah grinned, "Yeah, how's our favorite girl?"

Derek tried to keep his expression neutral and change the subject as quickly as he could, "Yeah, she's doing just fine—Des, how's your fiancé?"

Desiree grinned, "Johnny's fine as well, crazy as hell, but fine. He took me to a play at the Ford Oriental."

Mrs. Morgan leaned across the table and took her hand, "That's just wonderful! What did you see?"

"Evita," she replied with a gleeful smile, "It was incredible. Eva Peron was spot on. Just beautiful. If you have time when we get back home, want to see it with me? I'm just dying to go again."

Her mother grinned and nodded, "That sounds great! Sarah, Spencer. Want to join us?"

`Spencer added, "I'm actually a big fan of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber's work. I've read the musical a few times, but I never got a chance to see it. I would love to go if you'll have me."

Sarah nudged, "The dancing is right up your alley. Very traditional, classic."

Spencer glanced away from the table, "I wouldn't say my dance style was traditional. I'm probably going to end up dancing the Lambada with your brother if we keep up the good work."

Sarah asked, "What's so untraditional about the Lambada?"

Ducking his head and pushing his hair behind his ear, Spencer replied, "It's kind of... out-there, one might go far as to say _risqué_."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Wait, what? Risqué? We have to get freaky?!"

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Less _freaky_, more… intimate."

Mrs. Morgan clapped, "Well, this is sure to be interesting!"

Desiree laughed loudly, "Derek, oh my God. That's going to look hilarious. You and Spencer? You're not serious."

A flush of anger soured up in Derek's chest, "What's wrong with me dancing with Spencer?"

Sarah raised her palms in surrender, "We don't think there's anything wrong with you as people, but… you two dancing together is a little weird. Isn't ballroom supposed to be between a man and a woman?"

Derek replied pointedly, "Whoa. Sare, why are you Mitt Romney'ing this?"

Desiree added, "We're not Mitt Romney'ing it. If you two choose to twirl around together—"

Spencer spoke, "We didn't _choose_ this. The producers paired us unconventionally to reap benefits in the form of viewers who both can't and won't comprehend that anyone with feet and pulse can dance. Together."

Sarah started, "Well—"

Spencer continued, "The only way it would be hilarious for me to dance with Derek is if we were both horrible at it, which him and I clearly are not. Our combined talent shouldn't be based on the fact that one of us isn't a woman, but it is. So, we're going to squash adversity, squash the competition, and win ourselves this competition despite the fact that our partnership is discriminated against."

Mrs. Morgan clapped slowly, "_Someone_ marry this man."

* * *

"Des, Sarah, and I are headed to the airport," Mrs. Morgan said as the five headed out of the restaurant as their cab pulled up. She gave him a hug outside the restaurant, patting Derek's cheek, "You need anything, baby?"

Derek replied, "No, Mama. I'm fine."

She fixed Derek's blazer and smoothed out the fabric at his shoulders, "Okay. You know you can call me if things start to get too much for you. I'll be here faster than you can say Lambada."

Derek let out a small laugh, "Mom. I'll be okay. Remember the Marcus thing? I can handle a little heat from the public."

Mrs. Morgan smiled fondly, as his sisters got into the cab, "I know you can, but you've got me."

Derek added, "And Spencer."

"And Spencer." she confirmed, glancing to the door of the restaurant to see the tall, thin man folding his arms against the night chill at the door of the restaurant, "You do know that boy has the biggest crush on you I've ever seen, right?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "Mom."

She chuckled, "His eyes were either on your face or your ass the entire night. I don't think he can tell which one he wants more, and it's kind of disturbing."

Derek pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "Mom."

His mother added, "I actually stopped trying to fix him with Sarah halfway through the dinner. It was getting sad to even talk about it at that point since the only one he was looking at was you."

Derek yelped, glancing around his mom to steal another look at the dancer, "Mom! Please! Before he hears us!"

"It's the truth! Ain't my fault my baby's fine—actually, it is." she laughed and then added with a heatless scowl, "Tell Jordan I said, 'hi'. That is if she ever leaves that godforsaken job to spend enough time for you to do so. Lord knows, I don't know what it is you see in her."

Derek deadpanned, "Get in the cab before the girls leave you here."

Mrs. Morgan laughed, "What would be the danger in that? I'd be able to spend more time with my son."

Derek groaned, "I love you, Mama, but we both know we'd drive each other off the edge."

Mrs. Morgan gave him one last squeeze and patted his chin, "I know, I know. Get rid of that beard, boy."

Derek complained, "But, Mom."

Mrs. Morgan gave a heatless glare, "You know I can't stand it."

Derek gestured to the cab, "Goodbye."

She headed to the cab, calling to Spencer, "Doc, promise me you'll hold him down and shave that damned thing off."

Spencer laughed, shrugging, "I kind of like it."

Derek rubbed his chin, "See, its rugged. Drives 'em wild."

Mrs. Morgan got into the car and laughed to him, "I hate it so much."

Derek winked at her as the door closed and waved as the car zoomed away. With a small smile on his face, Spencer walked up to him from his spot beside the door and nudged Derek's shoulder, "I had half a glass of Scotch tonight and my car's been in the shop since last night. What's a girl gotta do to get a ride home?"

"I don't know where you live," Derek retorted.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek, "You drove me home yesterday. You know exactly where I live."

"Damn, you got me," Derek held out his arm and Spencer laughed before taking it.

They pulled each other close in the slight night chill and Spencer followed Derek around the restaurant to his car, "So... what were you and your mom talking about?"

He shrugged and answered loftily, "Nothing."

Spencer asked, "That means that your mom's still trying to get me to take Sarah's hand?"

Derek chuckled, "No. She's seen the iceberg and moved on."

He let out a large breath, "Oh, thank God."

Derek looked over to Spencer with mirth as they walked arm in arm, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spencer glanced up into Derek's eyes, "She's a beautiful woman. Intelligent, worldly, well-mannered. She's too good for me."

Derek laughed out loud, "Bullshit."

Spencer joked, "She also wasn't into me at all. That kinda has something to do with it."

Derek laughed harder, "Dude, you think?"

Spencer looked down at his chest in confusion, "I don't know why she didn't offer to take my precious virginity in the bathroom the instant she saw me, I mean, this is my best tie."

Derek smiled fondly, freeing his arm and walking around Spencer. He pulled the dancer gently by the tie with his free hand along the parking lot, "Do you have more like it?"

Spencer answered with a stronger pull, "Yeah. I'm a dressy kind of guy when I'm not prancing around in sweats. I actually have six pairs of cords."

Derek chuckled, "That's way too many."

Spencer added, "Don't even get me started on my sweater vest collection. Ethan calls it 'disgusting'."

"He's right!" Derek gasped out through his laughter, "Sweater vests? Come on, Spencer, you know better than that."

Spencer shrugged easily, "I have acute anemia. It keeps my midsection warm."

Derek smiled, leading them to his black rental car, "I kind of want to see you in one."

Spencer scratched absently behind his neck, "Hold on to your socks, because it might be too much cool for you to handle."

"Challenge accepted," Derek opened the car door for Spencer and Spencer let go of his arm, sliding into the seat.

Jogging around to the other side of the car, Derek approached the driver's side. He was eager to continue talking to Spencer. Conversations with him are unlike anything he's ever had before. The man was brilliant, sassy, quirky, and so nerdy it hurt. It was so endearing, and new, and exciting talking to him. Derek never wanted to stop. The only time he really considered it was when they were dancing, and really hitting a stride. When their bodies were moving in tandem beside each other, and their breaths hit each other's faces. Times like that, Spencer could quiet down and Derek wouldn't mind. They'd continue to speak with their eyes.

Derek was almost eagerly awaiting the Lambada.

Just the thought of them dancing such a smooth, sensual, provocative dance together was pretty much the best thing ever besides winning Superbowl's MVP award. Hell, it might even be better. If dancing just one goofy Jive with him is enough to set Derek's veins on fire, dancing the Latin dance with Spencer would pretty much kill him. The Lambada in particular was knows across the ballroom world as 'sex on hardwood'. Doing this with someone required the intensity, and emotion, and prowess of a couple with a fiery past—or at least a couple that can fake that much lust. Much unbeknownst to the American public, their dance when it comes to the Lambada won't be very hilarious. Their problem wouldn't be lust. Not at all.

Opening the car door eagerly, and sliding into the seat, Derek pulled his keys out of his pocket. Spencer started the conversation back up where it left off, "I was kidding about the cool thing. To be honest, I, uh... I'm kind of a nerd."

Derek chuckled, starting up the car, "What? Do you think that was some kind of secret?"

Spencer folded his arms, "Hey, I've never revealed my geeky side to any one of my dancers before. This is taking a lot out of me, okay?"

"I'm so sorry. You must be emotionally exhausted." Derek answered simply.

Spencer added as Derek pulled the car out of the parking spot, "Extremely so. My nerdiness is a good eighty percent of my personality."

Derek quipped jokingly, "The other twenty percent being sass?"

Spencer chuckled, "Damn right."

Derek led the car onto the road and shrugged, "Man, it's cool. I'm a closet nerd too."

Spencer laughed, "I doubt that."

"Oh, yeah?" Derek asked, "I own every season of Doctor Who on DVD—even the first one with the shaky camera work and the not-so-special special effects. Beat that."

Spencer countered, "I have a TARDIS in my house."

Derek whipped, "Which room?"

Spencer argued, "Living room."

Derek paused, "Wow, that's hardcore."

Spencer nodded, "Oh, yeah. I out-nerded you."

Derek growled, "We've barely even started. I have every Tolkien book ever written. Signed. By Tolkien himself."

Spencer one-upped, "I have an exact replica of the Ring."

Derek replied, "I have an exact replica of Harry Potter's Quittich broom hanging up in my den. Nimbus 2000, motherfucker."

Spencer glanced over at Derek, "I am fluent in the Fairy language from the Artemis Fowl series and the Elven language from LOTR. Both written Tengwar and spoken."

Derek replied, "I have a secret stash of Pokemon cards. Spoiler alert. I did catch them all."

Spencer hissed, "Impossible. Not all of them have printed cards in English."

Derek gave Spencer a haughty look, "Good thing all of mine are imported."

Spencer gasped, "Shut up."

Derek smirked, "I know. I'm the shit."

Spencer said hurriedly, "I have a Time Turner."

Derek stared over at Spencer, "No way."

Spencer looked back, "It spins too."

Derek shook his head and breathed out, "Marry me."

Spencer chuckled fondly, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear for the billionth time today, "Well, I might if you show me that extensive Pokemon collection."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "It's going to be quite the interesting showcase since I keep it in my bedroom."

"Oh…" Spencer blushed and glanced over at him, "You do?"

Derek added a sly wink, "Right under my memory foam mattress."

Spencer breathed, "Going to have to... get on there to retrieve it."

Derek nodded, "Oh, yeah. Just as a warning, I'm fairly territorial when it comes to my authentic Japanese cards. If you don't handle them with care, I'll have no choice but to handle you the same way."

Spencer bit his lip and visibly forced down a smile, "Derek Morgan, are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe, I am," Derek shrugged with a wink.

Spencer covered his smile with his hand, "Your girlfriend would disapprove."

Oh, right. Derek paused, staring off into the dashboard, watching the dark sky and narrow road. He'd nearly forgotten. He felt a small stab of betrayal still left over from earlier that night when he had called Jordan and found… they were over.

Spencer asked quietly, "You okay, Derek?"

"Yeah," Derek lied.

The doctor rushed out, "You've been a little off since before dinner, and I've been wondering if it were my fault because of the whole elimination thing. I really didn't mean to kiss you, honestly. I was just so excited, and I hugged you, and your face was just there, so I grabbed it. I wasn't trying to get with you like that or anything, I swear! If this makes things weird, I would like to apologize and—"

Derek whispered suddenly, eyes still fixed tersely on the road, "Jordan cheated on me."

Spencer took in the information silently, "…whoa."

At that point, the words just flowed. They poured out of Derek like an avalanche's snow and he almost couldn't stop after that. He continued, "She's been sleeping with someone else for five months now. I called her after the show and some guy picked up the phone, sounded like a real toolbag too. I just wanted to hear her voice, and I guess I did. She told me it was over."

Spencer placed his hand over Derek's, "Man, I'm so sorry."

Derek felt his heart fluttered in his chest at the touch, and kept his eyes trained on the street before him, refusing to speak. He feared that if he did, all of his emotions would come out of his mouth and strangle him dead.

He had loved Jordan once upon a time, and everything had melded into an obligatory relationship very early on. They didn't have the heart to let it go, because there was really nothing wrong with their relationship. They've just fallen out of love. Not willing to accept it, or move on, or let go of hope… the two just kept at it. They never fought, or argued, or even resented each other. The two simply weren't together in their hearts anymore.

Now, enter Spencer—worldly, handsome, brilliant-ass Spencer—and everything goes to shit. The calculator falls apart, does not compute, divides by zero, the entire world explodes, and all of a sudden Derek feels like he's never crushed on anyone in his entire life because he's _never felt like this before_. Spencer ruins everything and makes everything whole again just by existing, and it's annoying as fuck. All Derek wants to do is drive a damned car.

Derek turned to Spencer, "It's fine. I mean… I'll be fine. I just… man, I really loved her. Sure, time has passed and we grew apart, but I could see myself with her for a really long time and when I was out playing game after game, she was fucking around with some guy. I can't believe this, like… why?! Why didn't she just end it with me and _then_ fuck around?! Why'd she have to break my damned trust?! I did right by her! I never so much as laid a finger on anyone else but her in three years, that b—" Derek took a breath and pounded a fist lightly on the steering wheel, "You know what? I can't even call her a bitch, because I was dumb enough to let her into my heart, man, I was dumb enough to love her. And nowadays, it feels like I never loved her in the first place. There's… I feel… someone just… someone's deep in there now, and it's not her. She's never felt to me like this, and now, I don't even know what I want... God, why am I telling you this? You don't give a shit."

Spencer tightened his grip on Derek's hand, "Are you kidding me? I give a thousand shits."

Derek choked out a laugh, "That sounded so wrong."

"Yeah, that definitely came out weird," Spencer grinned, rubbing his thumb along the back of Derek's hand before asking calmly, "You know what? Fuck her. You didn't need her anyway… wanna just go out for a drink?"

Derek paused, "Are you asking me out?"

Spencer sputtered, "I—no, no way! I'm not—oh, God, I can't—you just got out of a relationship—besides, I don't like you in that way—not at all—I mean eww—gross. Like you would even—No. No, I'm not asking you out."

Derek cracked a teasing smile, "Cuz, it sounds like you're asking me out."

Spencer fixed his hair quickly, "Well, I'm not. I just wanted to—hang out. Like, yeah. People hang out. Dude buddy friends hang out."

Derek cackled, "Dude buddy friends?!"

Spencer frowned, "Are you going to stop making fun of me long enough to answer me?"

Derek laced his fingers through Spencer's and answered, "Well, as your 'dude buddy friend', I would love to go out for drinks."

Spencer grinned over at Derek, face resembling that of an excited puppy, "Yea! We can totally get you a rebound too. I make the best wing man! We'll spend like twenty minutes in the bar at the most, dude, we won't even drink that much because you'll get women that quickly. We're going to forget Jordan tonight, okay? We're going to get you laid."

* * *

**A/N: I've been hearing your comments and it's hilarious how good you guys are at predicting the plot. I wrote this all months ago and y'all are like, "Bam! Bam! Bam!" Me gusta mucho.**

**See you next Sunday,**

**Blue**


	4. Love and Sex and Magic

**A/N: Consider this a warning for sexual content. Because there is going to be sexual content. Enjoy the chapter, have a good night, byee~**

**Love,**

**Blue**

**P.S. _I highly recommend you listen to the song "Love Sex Magic" by Ciara before/during/after reading this. It's not necessary but it definitely puts you in Derek's frame of mind_.**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER FOUR: Love and Sex and Magic

Derek's head was on fire. Light was burning his eyes as it streamed in through poorly closed blinds, and his eyes were squinted heavily as he blinked awake. He was really fucking hungover. Barely picking up his head to try to get up, he closed his eyes and pressed his face back into a pillow that smelled like woodsy vanilla, straight from the pine. Derek smiled to himself, pushing his face further into the pillow an inhaling the scent, not quite grasping why the scent was so familiar.

The sun was warm on his bald head and even though his temples were thrumming and his forehead was hot, he embraced the nice feeling. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and burrowed into the soft sheets which smelled way too much of vanilla to be his. This was definitely not Derek's bed. As he settled himself, he felt his bare leg bump into another person's soft skin. Derek's smile widened. He doesn't even know who this is, but just the warmth of them is making his day just that much better.

Sure, last night was hazy, but, he had burnt the midnight oil with someone who wasn't that lying, cheating whore Jordan. The day was beautiful, this bed smelled like someone sexy, and he was going to meet Spencer this afternoon to learn his next dance. With a grin, he enjoyed the moment. Derek turned his head sleepily to glance over at the beauty whom entertained him last night.

All he could see was curly brown hair that was all over her face, and kind of familiar in the way it bent at the base of the neck. Her skin was pale from where he could see from the edge of the heavy white blanket as it hung off her shoulder. Derek reached over and pushed the hair out from her face and behind her ear and holy fuck.

It was Spencer.

Derek gasped and then held the breath, his eyes going wide as he took in the sight. He briefly considered smacking the guy awake so that he could recall the night. Then again, he also considered sneaking as quietly out of the bed as possible and chugging coffee on the freeway to jog his own memory. Or... Derek lifted the quilt slowly, like the perv he was. Spencer was sleeping, he'd never know. This was Derek's chance at a free peep show and damned if he's not going to take it. Oh, poo. Spencer was wearing a blue, cotton pajama set top that lay unbuttoned. It didn't really cover much but his arms from the bicep down. And he was also in... loose plaid boxers. Derek peered closer, squinting his eyes.

Oh, my God.

He was _hung_. Maybe. Hopefully. Or, it's just a very impressive wrinkle.

Derek made a fist and pumped it in the air for a moment before leaning down and looking back down to take in the rest of his body.

He was cute in that little pajama button up, Derek could see that dancer's skin was ghostly pale, his arms curling in at his clothed elbows to meet each other. But, past that, Derek saw a slender chest, flat stomach, and smooth thighs. His legs were kind of hairy, and that was actually all manner of hot. His clavicles were sharp, his small rosebud nipples were pink, and his taut lips were pouted in sleep. There was a shadow of stubble over the lower half of his face that dipped into his neck and Derek admits to wanting to rub his face all over the scratchy skin until it hurt. Derek bit his lip as he wondered how Spencer would look if he grew it out. He imagined Spencer's desired beard would end up being like… a Zachary Levi type length. Whoa. That would probably give Derek a heart attack.

Derek settled the blanket back down around Spencer's shoulders. The dancer scrunched his nose up and made a little noise. Aww. Look at his little face. God, he's cute when he sleeps. That thought doesn't make Derek a creeper though, right? Besides, he's totally not creeping, he's just admiring. It's the truth. He is. I mean, damn. Kid's a fucking koala bear.

Spencer's eyelashes fluttered and he pursed his lips, as he woke softly and slowly. The dancer sniffed and reached up to rub his eyes, glancing lazily over in Derek's direction before pausing.

Spencer looked at Derek.

Derek looked back at Spencer.

"Holy _shit_!" Spencer scrambled backwards out of the sheets and nearly launched himself out of the bed before realizing that he wasn't wearing pants and hastily covered his midsection and hips with the covers.

Derek deadpanned, "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Spencer folded his arms self-consciously over his chest before hissing out, "What the heck are you doing here?!"

Derek served up a sassy glare, "I could ask you the same question."

"Ah! God!" Spencer swore and rubbed his temples roughly, "I should have stayed away from the Peppermint Schnapps. Irish always fucks me up."

Derek added, "This probably is the worst time to say it, but I'm not used to being struck by such beauty so early in the morning, so here goes... your breath reeks."

Spencer growled, glancing around Derek's head, "It's 9:52 am and my hair is literally defying gravity right now. What are you talking about, early morning beauty?"

Derek poked Spencer's nose with a wink, "Sure, brushing your teeth would help, but _you_ are the very picture of effervescence today, Mr. Reid."

"Firstly, it's _doctor_. Secondly, I don't think you know what the word 'effervescence' means," Spencer ran his hand through his hair, "And thirdly, Derek, you waking up in my bed is a very pressing matter. I hope you're not taking this as a joke."

Derek chuckled under his breath, "I kinda am."

Spencer glared and folded his arms across his bare chest.

Derek straightened up his face and scooched up to lean on his arm, "I would sit up fully so that I look like I'm taking this more seriously, but I'm way more naked than you, so… yeah…"

"Oh, my God, you're not naked," Spencer's eyes widened disbelievingly.

Derek shrugged, "As the day I was born."

Spencer shook his head, flopping back on the bed and pressing his hands to his face, "You can't be here right now. You can't be naked. What have I done?"

Derek scoffed, "Thanks for the compliment, buddy, but I'm just as clueless as you."

"What makes you think I'm clueless?" Spencer opened one eye and looked at Derek, "I know exactly what I did last night. I just can't believe I did it."

Derek leaned over and shoved Spencer in the shoulder, "Dude! Share! I blacked out."

Spencer turned on his side and growled at Derek, "Ow."

Derek apologized, "Sorry. Please tell me."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek, "Why should I tell you anything?"

Derek shrugged, "I'll whip it out."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "I'm a male ballet dancer, Derek, I've seen another man's cock before. You're going to have to work harder than that."

Derek added, "I'll spit in your coffee."

Spencer gave Derek a dangerous look before hissing out, "You'll what?"

"Haha, I mean..." Derek reeled it back in ad smiled sweetly, "I'll do my stretches without complaining today."

Spencer considered his offer and supplemented, "A week."

"Fine," Derek sighed.

Spencer lay back on his pillow and folded his arms, "We went to this bar by down the street from here and I used a card trick as an opening for these two women whom were sitting there beside us."

Derek nodded slowly, "Okay, I remember that."

Spencer shrugged, "I totally meant to pair us off with them, but they didn't go for it. You bought them a drink, and they still didn't want to hang out with us, so you and me decided, we'd take a shot for every girl that pushed us away. We called them 'We Got Shot Down Shots'."

Derek frowned, "That's where I get a little fuzzy."

"Lucky you, because it gets very embarrassing very quickly," Spencer grimaced before continuing, "You almost nabbed this one girl who was a die hard Bears fan, but you were too drunk by then to make a lasting impression. We were obviously over-confident, because you got to six shots before the bar cut us off. I got to four, but I'm kind of a lightweight. Two and a half makes me wonky, so I was totally out of it. We took a cab home, and started talking about poker. When I told you I was from Vegas, you decided that you were better at it than I was. You said, and I quote 'Windy City beats Sin City'. I kicked your ass in the living room twice before you decided to up the ante. I would have never agreed to this, had I my inhibitions, but we played a couple rounds of strip poker and we were both down to underwear and I my shirt before we called it quits and went to sleep."

Derek asked, "Well, that doesn't at all explain where my underpants got to."

Spencer hissed, "I don't know where your damned boxers are! What do I look like? The keeper of the Ring?"

Derek groaned, "My God, you're pissy in the morning. Spencer, my underwear..."

Spencer whipped back, "You were galloping all loudly out of bed at five in the morning to turn the sinks on and off in my bathroom! Probably left them in there!"

Derek chuckled quietly, "I definitely left them in there."

Spencer glared at Derek, "I must have fallen asleep before you got back in bed, because I could have sworn you went home. I wasn't prepared to deal with _you_ before ten o'clock. And, by the way, your underwear in my bathroom is _not_ funny. If you don't stop chuckling, I'll smite you."

Derek laughed, "Are you kidding me, it's _hilarious_, man! I left my drawers in the bathroom. Here, I thought we had sex."

Spencer's eyes widened and his face went red, "Wh-what? We didn't have… we'd never…I—uh…"

"Don't act all shocked, man, you see how this looks?" Derek pointed to the two of them, lying together in bed in various states of undress.

Spencer winced, "Yeah... I can see why you'd jump to that conclusion."

"_Jump to conclusions_, dude, I didn't question it. I mean, look at you," Derek shrugged and lay back on the bed, moving to lean on his side, "You've got the sex hair and shirt all disheveled; plus, I definitely wouldn't push _you_ of all men outta bed."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek and pushed his hair out of his eyes, "No need to be kind."

Derek added simply, looking into Spencer's eyes, "I'm not being kind, I'm being honest. You're like… crazy hot."

An awkward pause took up a heavy moment and Spencer paused, clearly upset, "…I'm going to make breakfast."

Derek sighed, "Spencer—"

The dancer grabbed a large pair of horn rimmed glasses from his bedside table and placed them on his face, not saying a word.

"Spencer, come on, don't be like that," Derek groaned as Spencer pulled himself out of the bed, "I'm not trying to do anything. I just said you were hot, and that's like common knowledge. You don't have to ignore me for telling the truth, dude."

He walked lazily around the bed and opened a drawer from the dresser beside Derek, grabbing the matching pajama pants out of it.

Derek wrapped his hand lightly around Spencer's thin arm, fingers catching on soft hair there, "Spencer."

Spencer pulled his arm from Derek's grip and pulled on the blue plaid pants, leaving the room silently as he ignored Derek. Angered, Derek pounded his fists on the bed. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden?! It's not like they did anything incriminating last night. It's not like Derek reached towards him and kissed his way up Spencer's long neck, ran his hands possessively up Spencer's slender torso, licked into Spencer's fluffy pink lips. It's not like they did anything but play poker. Granted, it was strip poker, but still it was just poker and Spencer shouldn't be acting like this.

All Derek did was tell Spencer he was good-lookin'.

It was true.

Hell, most days, Derek has to physically tear his eyes away from Spencer's face.

But, he could tell from Spencer's reaction that he doesn't believe him. For some reason, Spencer thinks it's not true. Poor kid doesn't have a Twitter or Facebook, so he has no clue about the millions of men and women clamoring for just one keystroke of his attention. You know, what? That will be his next mode of attack: show Spencer his tumblr tag. Yeah. Great idea.

Derek pulled himself out of bed and reached into Spencer's drawer, fishing out the kid's largest pair of flannel pants (boy, did he have a truckload). Slipping them up his waist, Derek stood and glanced over at the slightly disheveled room. There were two dressers in Spencer's room, the one Derek used, and another one that was large and hulking. He itched with curiosity as he wondered what was in it. Maybe it's his dance costumes, maybe it's his street clothes, oh, God. What if it's his sweater vest collection? Ick. Derek shuddered with the most awkward flash of arousal. Mark him down as scared and horny.

He looked to his right to see a large knee length window, blinds haphazardly drawn with a Spencer sized barre right across it. It was bolted in the wall on either side where the glass frame ended. Wow, he has his own barre? That's pretty cool. The floors were hardwood, the ceiling was high, the walls were painted sea green with white trimming, and there were posters hung artfully on the walls. Most of them were of Broadway plays, and famous ballet studios, but some were definitely geek related. Derek's favorite so far was a large Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire poster that hung proudly beside the window.

Derek started out of the room and noticed an open closet on his way. He peeked inside and holy shit. It was filled—and Derek means filled—with shoes. Tap shoes, jazz shoes, ballet shoes, dance sneakers, you name it. It was in there. They were all lined up and in order on a really tall rack that held them all in place, thank God. Derek shuddered at the thought of them being piled up. Losing one shoe would be damned near a catastrophe.

Closing the closet door, Derek headed into the unfamiliar hallway and followed the smell of coffee beans brewing. At the end of the hallway, it was very bright. There was a larger room there in the flat, and that must be the living room.

Derek followed the lights and walked into a room with a couch, a TV, another one of those large windows that looked down on the city, and bookshelf. Bookshelf seems like an understatement. It was practically a wall of books, stuffed into that gigantic thing. Beside it was a coffee table, littered with cards and around it lay their clothes from last night. Catching his eye, Derek noticed it beside Spencer's pants. Lo and behold, the life sized cerulean blue TARDIS that was hella cool. He turned his head and noticed that the kitchen was attached to the open room.

Spencer stood there with his long, slender back to Derek, outlined in the thin pajama shirt with a bit of skin showing at the waist. Derek allowed himself a nice long look, his eyes sweeping down the man's soft skin and slightly raised spine that dipped into his low slung pants. Whereas his rear was usually drowned in big sweatshirts, it now wasn't. From the living room, Derek could see the high, plump butt just_ there_ asking to be looked at. Wow. He felt a sudden wave of wanting to walk over, wrap his arms around Spencer's body and kiss the side of his neck after pushing aside his sweet, sweet curls.

"_Take a picture, it'll last longer_," Spencer said moodily.

Derek chuckled, "Don't tempt me, Pretty Boy, I've got lots of pose ideas."

The glare he earned from behind Spencer's glasses as he turned his head was totally worth it. He's never seen him in glasses before. They look fucking good on him—then again, most things do. He looks like a sexy, pissed off English professor.

Derek served up a solid look, "Are you still miffed at me, or are you always grumpy when you wake up?"

_"_Mornings._ I hate mornings._ Usually, I'm threatening someone's life by now, but since I like you I'm trying to be nice," Spencer turned his body and held out a pan with crispy slices of bread on them, "Consolation grilled cheese?"

Derek paused, "Grilled cheese for breakfast?"

Spencer added, "_It's got eggs in it_."

Derek replied, "That sounds disgusting."

Spencer lashed out through his teeth, his large glasses slipping down his nose, "Everything about you is_ disgusting!_"

Derek took a step back as if he was approaching a hissing, feral cat that just swiped at him claws and all, "Holy shit..."

Spencer took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, _"_Sorry. I haven't had my coffee."

Derek scoffed, "Yeah, okay, Mr. Mental Case."

Spencer glared, "That's _Dr_. Mental Case to you."

Derek sassed, "You still have Harry Potter posters up in your room, so I'll be the judge of that."

Spencer growled out, _"_It's perfectly okay to fantasize about Daniel Radcliffe! He's legal."

Derek chuckled, "I guarantee he wasn't when that picture was taken."

"I barely was when I bought it!_"_ Spencer's voice teetered on the edge of a yell as he finished, "_Now, if you don't get in the kitchen, I'm disrobing you and tossing you into the street!_"

Derek yelled back, "You scare me!"

Spencer barked, "Good!"

Derek allowed a few tentative steps forward onto the small tiled flooring, getting closer to the glowering young dancer. Spencer's eyes narrowed and Derek inched his way around him as he approached to grab a napkin from beside the stove. Derek then reached into the pan, grabbed a hot sandwich, placed it on the napkin and inched away to the kitchen table slowly. He wasn't going to take his chances with sudden movements. Dude might flip out.

He sat patiently and placed the napkin and sandwich on the table in front of him.

Spencer grunted out, "_Eat_."

Derek grabbed the sandwich, shoved it into his face and took a big bite.

Spencer growled, "_How do you like it?"_

Derek winced and nodded. Damn thing was terrible. The eggs were runny and underdone and the cheese tasted like rubber. The bread was soggy and warm. It was torture. Derek gulped it down and asked, "Do… uh, do you have anything to drink?"

Spencer hissed, "_The fucking coffee isn't ready yet_."

Derek added, "Yeah, I'm aware."

Spencer glared at him over his horn rimmed glasses, "…_I hate you_."

Derek nodded, "Duly noted."

The small espresso machine beside the sink beeped and Spencer scurried over to it with a mug, watching greedily as it filled up, making soft sounds of happiness as his cup rounded off. Spencer grabbed a second mug from the counter and filled it as well, turning the thing off afterward.

After scooping four heaping helpings of sugar and pouring three little cups of Half-and-Half into it, Spencer lifted the piping hot mug to his lips and drank deeply as the heat wafted up to his face. That man let out a moan more needy and sexual than any moan Derek has ever heard. Derek's ears perked up and Spencer took another sip, moaning a louder, "Oh, God, yes."

Derek closed his eyes, willing down his dick's request to stiffen at the sounds of Spencer slurping up his first cup of coffee of the day. Spencer took another sip and closed his eyes, face smoothed into a blissed out expression. His plump pink lip was pulled into his teeth as he released it slowly, the steam of the mug drifted up his features, his throat pushed out a soft, mewling sound of appreciation, and Derek admits it. He pictured Spencer naked. Clothless, in nothing but an unbuttoned oxford and those glasses. Right there in the kitchen, he conjured up thoughts of Spencer standing, kneeling, lounging, running those gentle fingers through his soft brown locks. And now fantasy!Spencer is dancing but not the safe way he usually does. This dance was dirty and sensual. Fantasy!Spencer moved in determination, licking those sexy lips, walking around with those shapely legs to the tune of Ciara's "Love, Sex, Magic". Holy Christ. He was flipping his hair and grinding into Derek's lap, biting his lip and begging Derek to—_fuck_ here comes the boner. Before Derek could even picture his grandmother's feet and calm himself down, Spencer sat close beside him and handed Derek a mug of coffee with a warm smile, "It's Peruvian. Cost an arm and a leg, but boy is it worth it. Here, drink up."

Derek stared at him, mouth slightly open and blinking several times as he tried to get that sexy image out of his head. It was damn near impossible when Ciara was still singing to him like that. God... Spencer's mouth. Those lips are so not helping. Fantasy!Spencer touseled his hair and straddled Derek's lap. _I'll make sure it's just you in the crowd, doing tricks you've never seen. I know that I can make you believe in love and sex and magic_. Derek's head bobbed along to the music as fantasy!Spencer licked a dirty line up his neck. Fantasy!Spencer crooked his finger, pawing Derek closer. _Let me drive my body around you, I bet you know what I mean. I know that I can make you believe in love and sex and magic__—_  


Spencer waved a hand in front of Derek's face, "Derek. Derek? Major Tom to Ground Control."

Derek blinked. Whoa, that was... vivid. He reached out soundlessly for the offered cup, closing his hands around the warm mug, Derek blew across the top of it and raised it to his lips. A splash of warm, smooth liquid poured down his throat and whoa. That was some damn good coffee. What was that in there, hazelnut? Huh. That's not bad at all.

Spencer leaned his head on Derek's shoulder, glancing up at him through his eyelashes, "How about I make some bacon and toast? This grilled cheese tastes like shit, doesn't it?"

Derek looked down at Spencer. The man was smiling up at him adoringly, eyes warm and large. And, now "Love, Sex, Magic" is playing again. Derek seriously needs to get his shit together. He gulped and mumbled out, "Uh… yeah… sure?"

"Awesome!" Spencer beamed at him and stood, heading to the stove, leaving Derek to press a hand to his own forehead and question whether or not he's contracted something.

* * *

The two headed over to the studio a couple of hours later, fed, showered and energized. They'd stopped by the bar to pick up Derek's car, went to Derek's hotel and grabbed a change of clothes, and were soon in their spacious, mirrored room, ready to go.

Spencer grabbed the titled card by the edge of the room and opened it, looking over at Derek with excitement, "This is the moment of truth."

Derek tapped his hands on the barre and made a drum roll sound.

Spencer read the card, "Qu….whoa. I thought they weren't going to give us these. At least for a while."

Derek stopped his hands, "What? What did we get?"

"Qu…" Spencer cleared his throat, "Quickstep."

Derek paused, "Oh. Shit."

Spencer sighed, "Yeah, I know. I just had several other dances prepared to teach. I didn't even consider the quickstep to be an option. Not this week."

Derek grinned, "Does that mean practice is cancelled?"

Spencer laughed, "Are you kidding? This is a hard one, we're going to need every minute we've got."

Derek winked, "That's what she said."

Spencer glared heatlessly.

Derek cocked his head to the side, "Would you believe that underneath my jokes and jibes is a scared little boy who is afraid to show his magnificence and truly shine?"

"No," Spencer replied.

Derek added, "Not even a little bit?"

"Ignoring you," Spencer rolled his eyes and began again, "I was assuming that I'd have more time to hone your skills ballroom-wise before I taught you such a complicated piece. You're very talented, so I won't be feeding you to the sharks, but… it'll be hard on you."

Derek shrugged, "It's cool. I can take it. Just tell me what song we're doing this too."

Spencer said simply, "I was hoping for 'Well, Alright' by the Hives."

Derek gave Spencer a wary look, "The Hives? Isn't the lead singer like… batshit?"

"Define 'batshit'," Spencer replied, folding his arms.

Derek paused, "Yelling into the microphone as if he's not sure if he's being brutally murdered or experiencing the best orgasm known to man. It's also an adjective. Do you want me to use it in a sentence?"

_"I'd rather you took your shirt off," Spencer said blatantly._

_Derek blinked and looked at him funny, "...uh, what?"_

_Spencer looked him up and down and walked up to him, crowding his space and running his fingers up and down Derek's chest, "I'm so pretty. Wouldn't you like to bend me over the barre and screw me until your name is the only word I know?"_

_Derek backed up only to be followed, "Spencer, what the hell are—"_

_Spencer pinned him to the wall, "No need for the silly games, Derek! I want you! All of you! Right this instant!"_

_Derek froze in his spot, "Uh..."_

_Spencer grabbed him by the collar, "Make love to me, Derek!" Spencer whispered into his ear, "Touch me! Fuck me! Make me scream!"_

_"I've seen you watching my mouth. You want it, I can tell. I could just suck you down right here, right now," Derek closed his eyes as __Spencer licked a line up Derek's neck and fell to his knees, staring up at him while he untied Derek's sweatpants and bit his lip flirtatiously, "What are you looking at?"_

_Derek asked, "What?"_

_Spencer repeated, "What are you looking at? __What are you looking at?"_

Spencer clapped in front of Derek's face, "What are you looking at, Derek?"

Derek breathed out, "Huh?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, "God, it's like talking to a pair of jazz shoes."

That man has incredible lips, and Derek hasn't really noticed as well as his subconscious has. And his subconscious thought up some pretty indecent things. Involving those lips. Derek scratched behind his neck and as he tried to speak, all that came out of him was a mumbled mess.

"Wow. Incredible thesis, Hawking. However do you do it?" Spencer sighed and waved it off, turning his back, heading to the barre, "Let's get some warm-up stretching going."

Derek's eyes traveled to his rear as it moved in those sweats. Not a good view. Not a good view at all. His ass can do better than those pants. He should consider yoga shorts. Or no shorts. Or no pants.

Spencer turned to him, "See something you like?"

Derek narrowed his eyes at the dancer, "You always seem to know when I'm looking at your butt."

"You're not exactly subtle," Spencer raised his chin, "And you didn't answer me."

Derek paused, "...I don't think I should."

Spencer's neck grew pink and as his cheeks gathered color he sassed back, "Well..." and fell short before clearing his throat, "We... we have rehearsal to do. To the barre, Padawan. You promised no complaining, so let's go."

"_Oh_, I see," Derek grinned and headed to the barre as Spencer turned his back on him.

Spencer finished walking to the barre, "You see nothing. Stop making inferences, you'll pull something."

Derek took the opportunity as soon as it rose, double checking the way those sweatpants fit on the dancer's body.

Spencer quickly hissed, "Eyes. Off. Ass."

Derek saunteered over to the barre with a smile on his face, thinking with surety, _he totally wants me._

* * *

"Dammit, Derek, hold me like a man!" Spencer shouted as Derek fumbled his arm positioning. He had spent the last two hours of their third rehearsal learning the last five measures of the song, and his shoulders were on fire. Derek had to hold one hand in Spencer's warm one and the other placed "respectfully" at the small of his back. All Derek knew was that it was Saturday, and he was so frustrated with the dance that he wanted to strangle something. Preferably his hot instructor.

The footwork was hard enough, but boy, did Derek's arm placement bring out the stickler in Spencer. The moment his hand dropped or raised on Spencer's back, the dancer growled and made them start over. Derek's pretty sure if he hears the words "Woo Hoo" one more time, he's going to give the stereo a Shut the Fuck Uppercut.

Spencer growled for the umpteenth time, "Raise your elbow!"

Derek raised his middle finger.

Spencer's movements were so sharp and practiced and ever loving trained—Derek could hardly keep up. Thank God (and Satan) Spencer had bestowed the woman's portion on himself. Yes, Derek wasn't given womanly turns and flourishes to execute, but since Derek was technically "leading the dance", he had to, as Spencer put it, "grab him and throw him across the dance floor like the hulking man he is or _so help him God_ he will rid Derek of his beard with a pair of rusty tweezers".

Fearing death by tetanus, Derek tried his best.

But, it was difficult. Spencer understood that and went as easy on him as he could, but damn if he didn't drill into Derek that they needed to do a nearly perfect job so that their partnership will be critiqued on their style and technique and not the fact that they both have penises. So, Derek tried harder.

On the other end of things, the quickstep was torture in more ways than the complicated jumps and foot movements. Spencer was up against his chest nearly the entire time today. When they jumped together, Derek could feel Spencer's scratchy, unshaven cheek against his. When they dashed around, Spencer's hair fluttered around his delicate, pale face. And when Derek had to dip him, the inside of Spencer's thigh rubbed against his and Jesus Christ yes. Derek was essentially spending a good portion of the dance between Spencer's legs and the idea of it wasn't _nearly_ as enticing as the real thing. Good thing the dance wasn't Latin, because Derek doesn't think he can handle artistic passion from Spencer without suffering cardiac arrest.

In other shitty news, Derek's little crush was becoming worse and worse and worse as the moments passed.

Spencer was sweaty and serpentine and snappy and it was just about the hottest thing on the planet. Plus, it was kind of cute when he pouted. All of this definitely wasn't helping Derek out. Not one bit. Especially since this morning. Ever since that moment in Spencer's kitchen with the coffee, Derek_ hasn't been able to stop thinking about having sex with him_. It's nearly all that's on his mind. Every time Spencer licks his lips, Derek's thoughts go to fellatio. Every time Spencer yells at him, Derek imagines him screaming out in ecstasy. And Spencer's hands? God, bury Derek where he stands. Or at least damn him to the gutter, where his mind is obviously vacationing.

It had been little over a week and Derek was on his way to infatuation with this geeky kid—_what is his life?_

Before the fourth hour, Spencer clicked off the stereo (thank Allah) and called a lunch break. Spencer allotted twenty minutes and Derek collapsed on the floor before the word "break" even left his lips. Serving up an appreciative nod of his head, Spencer followed him and lay down on his back, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes, "So, how are you?"

Derek whimpered into his arms which were folded into the floor, "I think I'm dying, so awesome."

Spencer reached over and poked Derek between the eyes, "I was talking about Jordan, smartass. I want to make sure my apprentice's inconveniently broken heart won't shatter his dancing feet."

Derek muttered, "You're incapable of sympathy, aren't you?"

Spencer kept his eyes on Derek as he looked up at him from upside down, "No. I just… I'm trying to tell you that I'm worried about you without sounding like a tool."

Derek spoke muffled into the floor, "Why would you worry? I mean it's not like I was thinking of proposing to her or anything. Truth be told, I'm mostly over it. Quick, I know."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, "If she didn't mean that much to you, then why did you devote three years of your life to her?"

"Well, we…" Derek paused, "Huh… I don't know. When you put it like that it sounds kind of dumb."

Spencer replied, "I put a one-year timer on my relationships. If it passes a year and I don't feel a connection with the person that resonates serious commitment, I couldn't possibly waste my time with them any further."

Derek looked up at him from under his arms, "That's kind of cruel."

Spencer turned to lay on his belly do that he could maintain eye contact, "No, it's not. It's resourceful. I won't send off the wrong message, I won't get my heart broken, I allow myself space to fall in love with someone worth my time—"

Derek asked, "Well, what do you define 'falling in love'?"

Spencer looked deeply into Derek's eyes for a moment. He looked distant, nearly melancholy as he internalized something. Pulling his lips into his mouth for a moment, Spencer sighed and moved to stand.

Derek pouted, "Come on, Pretty Boy, why are you standing up all of a sudden—"

Spencer finished his rise and ran his hands through his hair, "You mind not calling me pretty all the time? It's an effeminate trait that I'm positive I don't possess."

Derek leaned over to lay on his back and look up at Spencer, reaching his arms out to him, "It's a term of endearment. Besides, I don't see the wrong in telling you how gorgeous you are—"

"Jesus, Derek," Spencer looked Derek over with hurt scribbled all over his face as he angrily grabbed his duffel bag and headed to the door, "I'm getting lunch."

Derek complained, "Come on, man, don't be like that!"

"I'll be back at 4:45. Don't wait up," Spencer launched himself out of the room, slamming the door. Derek hissed angrily and balled his hands into fists, nearly tossing one at the floor.

Why the fuck was Spencer always so randomly difficult?! One moment, they're best friends and the next he's Mister Mood Swing, storming away all pissy and such. All Derek wants is to get to know him. Sure, he's winky and nudge-y, but that's just who Derek is. He's a flirt! Usually, Spencer doesn't mind it. He blushes and changes the subject and sometimes he even goes with it. But, days like Wednesday morning or just now, he'd slam his guard up like Captain America's shield and say "fuck you" to the world for whatever the allotted time it was for him to stop bugging out.

When Derek asked Spencer his definition of love, Spencer looked so sad. His eyes went barren and his skin flushed. His pouty lips pursed as he licked them nervously, and Derek worried. He doesn't know who the hell hurt him in the past, but they are asking for a steel toed boot up the ass courtesy of Derek Morgan himself. A man as kind-hearted and talented and pure as Spencer doesn't deserve to see a day of sadness, nevertheless be hurt.

Someone has messed with Spencer's heart and left it beaten and bruised to the point where the very mention of love brings a shudder to his shoulder. Derek wants to wash that all away. He wants to hold Spencer in his arms and press him against his chest until all of the sadness disappears. He wants to brush his hair out of his face and whisper to him that he's beautiful without it striking up World War III because of how deeply he disagrees. Dammit, Derek wants to kiss him. Just once. He wants to grab Spencer by the shoulders, pull him in and kiss him so softly and so passionately that he will never again question that love exists. If it didn't, then what are Spencer's eyes saying? What do they feel when they dance? Why hasn't Derek given up on him yet?

Derek pushed himself off of the floor and ran his hand over his bald head. When Spencer comes back in here, Derek's decided that he's going to rock his fucking world. If Spencer can snap his hips like a seasoned matador, then Derek can too.

Bring it.

* * *

Penelope called later that afternoon. She asked Derek if he would like to get a cup of coffee. It was six o'clock and getting dark, but Derek shrugged it off and agreed. What the hell? Why not? After breaking his back all week doing this godforsaken quickstep, he deserved a night out. Derek didn't know why he felt the need to tell Spencer about it, but he did anyway. They were doing cool down stretches under the fluorescent lights three hours later, and to the left of them was the ever-present glass wall, separating them from an inky, black, nine o'clock sky. It was quite beautiful in its softness and mystery, and sometimes, it even looked magical.

Derek glanced over to Spencer on the floor as the man sat beside him on the floor, pulling on the muscles of his feet with soft controlled hands. The night stretching was a ritual of Spencer's. He says it winds the muscles down and prepares them to rest. He's right. It does. He sleeps like the dead when he gets to his bed every night after rehearsals, and it hurts so good when he wakes up in the morning.

He spoke, "So… me and Penelope are getting coffee tonight."

Spencer got quiet and bent further, a bone in his back cracking as he stretched it out, "...pretty blonde Penelope?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah, her."

Spencer flexed his foot and sat back up, exhaling, "Why are you telling me this?"

Derek shrugged, "I… don't know. Just figured I should tell you."

"I'm not going to get jealous, Derek," Spencer raised his arm and placed it behind his back, tugging on it with the other, "We're in an open relationship."

Derek copied his motion, albeit poorly, "Dude, not funny."

Spencer chuckled lightly, "It's kind of funny."

Derek tugged harder on his own arm, "Well... I was going to ask if you wanted to come with."

Spencer switched arms, "No, you weren't."

Derek switched arms as well, "How do you know, Mr. Smarty Pants?"

Spencer glanced over at him, "I like to think I know you well enough by now to be able to tell when you're lying to me."

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, "Oh, yeah?"

Spencer tugged on his arm and exhaled, expanding his ribs, "I've had practice. You do it a lot."

Derek blinked, "Well, sometimes, I'm doing it to protect you."

Spencer asked, "You don't have to do that. I'm not a child. I _know_ that this competition forces us to spend nearly every waking moment together. You wanting to hang out with other people won't hurt my feelings; makes sense actually."

Derek asked him confusedly, "But what if I do want you to come?"

Spencer released his arm and let it fall to his side, "Hard as it may be to consider, I have plans as well."

Derek let his arm fall as well, "Oh."

Spencer stood and reached out a hand to help Derek up, eyes flashing with worry and sudden anxiety as he added, "Go have coffee with National Pop Icon, Penelope Garcia. I'll see you tomorrow."

Derek allowed himself to be helped, but didn't let go of Spencer's hand when they stood close, "...I'm not sleeping with her."

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes, hand pushing his hair out of his eyes, his tell, "Would I care if you were?"

Derek spoke with a smile on his face, pulling Spencer closer, "I don't know. Would you?"

Spencer's breath hitched, "I don't know. Why'd you bring it up?"

Derek replied, "You asked."

Spencer scoffed, "No, I didn't."

Derek answered, "Your eyes did."

The dancer looked away from him and snatched his hand back. Derek continued as Spencer walked away from him toward his duffel, "I like to think I know you well enough by now to be able to tell when you're lying to me. You do it a lot too."

Spencer picked up his bag and rolled his eyes as he stormed out of the door, "Don't use my words against me."

Derek shouted after him, "Are we fighting?"

Spencer shouted back, "No!"

As soon as Derek got to his phone, he cancelled the coffee date.

* * *

_Sunday morning rehearsal was always taxing, but for this one, Derek was expecting Spencer to be a nightmare the moment he stepped across the threshold seeing as he was one last week—not to mention the fight they had yesterday. Surprisingly, when the dancer arrived, he seemed more than calm. He even had an heir of ease around him as if he didn't understand the concept of stress. _

_"Good morning," Spencer said simply as he dropped his satchel down on the side of the room, balancing his coffee cup in one hand as he shrugged the bag from his shoulder. Setting the cup down beside it, Spencer pulled his worn, baggy MIT sweatshirt over his head and tossed it toward his pile. Underneath he… he was wearing Derek's jersey. Okay, this clearly isn't real. He could see the giant "MORGAN 43" on the back of it, and noticed none too slowly that it was too big for the man's thin frame. Hell, Derek would hazard a guess that it's his own size, not the kid's. Spencer drowned in it. And to make matters worse, one side of it hung loosely off of his bare shoulder. _

_As he turned, Derek could see how the orange and blue that he'd spent nearly a decade in had a wonderful effect against Spencer's complexion. The orange made his golden undertones shine through, and the soft blues under his eyes, along the veins in his forearms, and on the edges of his collarbone was brought out in an almost haunting effect._

_Derek ran his eyes along his spindly body as Spencer strode forward with determination in his eyes and a sultry twinge to his sly smile. He doesn't even know how Spencer heard that inner plea to go pantless last week, but he had listened and listened well as the big shirt billowed around his pale knees. Derek prayed against his body as blood rushed to his hardening groin, yet it was as if he was possessed. Shrouded in a cloud of effortless sex, Spencer sauntered on with his eyes locked on Derek's. He placed a long-fingered hand in his soft looking hair and mussed it around lazily until it hung in messy tangles all around his face._

_He was barefoot and confident as he got up into Derek's space, backing the two of them closer and closer to the wall until the barre was digging into Derek's back. Spencer placed his hands on Derek's chest and spoke up at him softly with eyes shining with innocence, "Could you move aside? I need to stretch."_

_Derek, unable to speak, moved over and allowed Spencer full access to the barre. This had to be a dream. It was definitely a dream. There was no way in Hell that this would ever happen in the real world. Yet, here it is—happening. Spencer lifted the leg furthest from Derek and pressed his body up against it, groaning softly as he pulled on the muscles on the back of his thigh. Oh, yeah. Yep. Derek is definitely hard. _

_Yet, Spencer continued to stretch. As the dancer's nose pressed into his knee, he stole a glance at Derek. His eyes trailed down Derek's body and back up to his eyes before his secretive smile came back for an encore. Spencer tossed his head back and flicked his hair to his shoulder._

_There really is a God._

_And He so loved the world that He gave Spencer a Bears jersey._

_Spencer spoke once more with a breathy voice and a searching stare, "Come help me stretch my back."_

_Derek obeyed instantly, hurrying to Spencer's side. The dancer faced away from him and Derek asked, "Isn't the back stretch a floor thing?"_

_"I've decided to switch it up a little bit if you don't mind, this one works the lumbar," Spencer said swiftly before flicking his bed messy hair out of his face once more and bending over with his legs stiff straight. He reached his pale hands toward the floor and made another one of those sweet, sweet groans as he was satisfied with the muscles tightening and loosening in place. Spencer asked, "Run your hand down my back and make sure my spine is aligned."_

_Derek moved closer and hesitated before touching Spencer's back with a gentle brush, "I… I don't know the first thing about spine alignment."_

_"I know," Spencer replied, leaning forwards and moaning through the stretch as his hands touched the hardwood. Derek stifled a groan of his own and Spencer chuckled darkly, "Mmm, just how I like my tendons. Nice and tight."_

_Derek breathed, "Holy shit."_

_Spencer asked effortlessly, "You want me, don't you Derek?"_

_Derek nodded, cleared his throat and responded shakily, "Y… yeah."_

_Spencer pressed his back harder against Derek's hands, "You think about me like this, all loose and pliant and slutty for you. Am I wrong?"_

_Derek shook his head, eyes clouded in shame, "No."_

_Spencer let his fingers tap against the floor, "But, you're too much of a bitch to come and confront me about it. Right?"_

_Derek chuckled nervously, "I wouldn't blame me. You're kind of scary."_

_Spencer snapped up quickly, his entire back pressed flat against Derek's chest and his soft hair falling against his cheek, "And, you like it. You like the way I scare you. You like the way I leave you guessing. You like the way I show off my mind, you like the way I look at you all innocently, and you like the way my lips move when I snap at you for being an idiot, and, God, do you like the way I dance with you. You want every single inch of me, and it kills you how worried you are that I'll reject you."_

_Derek paused, "'Worried' is a strong word…"_

_Spencer turned and faced him._

_Derek looked into his large brown eyes._

_Spencer spoke sharply, "Eww! Gross! Get off of me! How old are you, you perv? Fifty?"_

_Derek's stomach fell and his heart rate quickened, "Forty two."_

_Spencer took a step back, "You're disgusting. Why would you think I would even consider you? You're a has-been, you're washed up, and come on. Look at me. I'm fucking gorgeous. I've passed my prime and I keep getting hotter. What about you, handsy old man?"_

_Derek took an unstable breath and raised his hands in defense, "Kid, I didn't touch you."_

_Spencer hissed, raising his voice in anger and disgust, "You wanted to! Don't deny it! I see the way you look at me! I always see it, and I have to deal with you every single day!"_

_Derek growled, adding back, "You didn't even give me a chance! You're so quick to judge! You don't know me! You don't know my life! I don't need you giving me shit on top of it!"_

_Spencer scoffed, "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry Mr. MVP. Life must be so hard making millions a year."_

_"It is!" Derek hissed, "My career is over, my glory days are gone, and my woman was sleeping with other men because she was sick of me! I'm not even going to go into what I was like _before_ I got lucky at Northwestern. Just when my life is finally making sense, you show up and ruin it!" _

_Spencer folded his arms, "I ruined your life?"_

_Derek whipped back, "Yes! You did! I would be fine with a loveless marriage. I would be fine retired, writing some dumb shit novel and traveling the world with my mom. I would be fine without having to publicly come out and stain the name I built for myself from the ground up, but now that you're here… I have feelings! _Feelings_, man! I don't just want your body, I want _you_. I want every part of you and this is how I'm internalizing it, alright?! It's so hard, wanting all of you. There's so much of you to fall for that I don't even know where to begin, so yeah, my mind's jumping straight to sex. Because, I want you. From your ugly sweater vests to your crazy shoe collection to your PhDs, I _want_ you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?!"_

_Spencer's face fell into an unreadable stance, "I… I didn't know all that."_

_"Well, you should have asked!" Derek nodded and barely even got a word out before Spencer was tackling him against the barre and shoving their mouths together into a sloppy kiss. Spencer's lips were dry, but soft. His face was clean and stubbly and he smelled so much of that pine vanilla. So much. Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer's body and embraced him, returning the kisses with ease as they heated up. Spencer grabbed the sides of Derek's face and pushed his tongue into Derek's mouth aggressively. He was butchy. Good God, that was hot. _

_Grabbing the dancer by the backs of his thighs, he spread the man's legs and shoved him onto the top rail of the barre, sandwiching himself between his legs for a harder, hotter touch. This isn't real anyway, so, you know what? Fuck it. Sexy, jersey clad fantasy!Spencer wants it rough? Well, that's what he's getting. Derek shoved his fists into Spencer's hair and pulled harshly. Spencer moaned into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, pressing their chests together. Spencer's hands were everywhere at once, he was all over Derek's body. That jersey was very thin, and it rode up Spencer's softly toned thighs. Derek tugged harder on Spencer's hair and the dancer's neck snapped up. He had always ached to kiss along that long neck, and took the opportunity to do so, laving his lips and tongue all over the skin._

_Spencer let out a sharp moan as Derek sucked onto the base of his left collarbone, near his pressure point. He tightened his legs around Derek and made another loud, needy sound when Derek did it again._

_He hissed out, "Harder!" and reveled in it as Derek obliged him happily. _

_Spencer's long fingers scraped their nails along the back of Derek's head, "Fuck!"_

_Derek ran his hand up Spencer's thigh and traveled to his bare waist. He was in nothing but the jersey. Nothing. Derek pulled him closer, sliding his hand up further against Spencer's skin. He sucked passionately at Spencer's neck and felt up his chest, the jersey bunching up his caramel colored arm as he did so. __ "Ahh, Derek!" He grabbed Derek's head and forced it closer into his skin as he tossed his head back in the throes of his arousal, saying loudly, __"__I'll make sure it's just you in the crowd, doing tricks you've never seen. I know that I can make you believe in love and sex and magic__—"_

"Let me drive my body around you, I bet you know what I mean. I know that I can make you believe in_—"_

Derek sleepily leaned over to switch the alarm on his phone to "snooze", panting, sweaty and hard as a rock in his plaid pajama pants. This is the fourth time this week. Derek sighed, the first step is acknowledging it. He has a problem. A sexy, sexy problem. And he doesn't have the slightest clue of how to deal with it.

* * *

**A/N: For FF's regulation rules, the final scene has been edited because it escalates to... stuff. There's a full scene in the AO3 version which uploads tomorrow afternoon. Just put "Raising the Barre" into the Archive's search engine and you should find it just fine if you're interested.**

**Toodles,**

**Blue**


	5. End-of-Arm Guidance

**A/N: Thank y'all so far for all of the reviews.**

**Much love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER FIVE: End-of-Arm Guidance

The two-man team sat beside each other in the confessional booth and stared at the camera awkwardly.

Spencer looked over at him and shrugged, clad in his cute little suspenders and red silk tie. His hair was gelled back and parted; the kid was damn near edible. Yeah, Derek looked awesome in a suit, but Spencer… wow. If looks could kill, Spencer would be a mass murderer with a price on his head. This week, they were going for 1920's chic and they'll probably induce multiple orgasms by just showing up dressed like this.

Derek smiled back endearingly as Spencer's beauty smacked him again, and with a black bowler hat in his hands, he looked like exactly one million bucks. Derek looked back at the camera, "So, in a nutshell, I'm way better than he thought I'd be. He's so proud of me, look. Look at his little smile. He's trying to hide it. Look, look! Before it goes away!"

Spencer's eyes were formed stern, one hand over his mouth to hide the grin that Derek placed there before chuckling and nudging Derek with his shoulder, "_We'll see_ if I'm proud of you tonight, okay? You'd better keep your elbow parallel, or I know something."

Derek expressed, "That's Spencer's way of saying 'Derek is the most talented dancer on this planet and most galaxies, and I would be honored to mother his children'."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "That's not at all what I said."

Derek nudged him, "That's exactly what you said."

"Go ahead. Keep joking around. I'm not above pants-ing you in front of America," Spencer replied, turning to the camera with a stern face, "He has a lot of work to do, but he is definitely improving."

Derek smirked, "Oh, that's not the word you used backstage. I think you called me something like... Lord of Dance, King of Ballroom, Guru of Gettin' Down."

Spencer turned around, "I'm not afraid to hit you. Your muscles don't scare me."

Derek laughed out loud, "Bring it, toothpick. Hit me. Go for it."

Spencer raised his eyebrows, "You serious?"

Derek held out his arm, "Yeah, man, lay it on me."

"You know what? Fine. This right here is for all of the pain and anguish you've caused me in the last two weeks," Spencer preluded before raising his hand over Derek's arm, "I'm giving you time to back out, now."

Derek rolled his eyes.

Spencer shrugged, reached out and smacked Derek on the arm as hard as he could. Pain shot up his elbow and Derek felt himself stiffening up and gripping it, leaning back on the seat with an, "Ahhh, God!"

Spencer looked back at the camera with a satisfied look on his face, "I'm the one in control here. Just FYI."

The little light flashed above the camera that told them that time was up in the confessional. Derek was still leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and grumbling as the camera clicked off. Spencer wrapped his hand around Derek's wrist and pulled. Derek complained, "That really hurt."

Spencer stood and tugged harder, "We've concluded that I can smack you around, but I don't have the ability to lift your fat ass up. We have to get backstage."

Derek whined, "But you gave me a boo boo!"

Spencer hissed, pulling in earnest, "Fucking child. I don't know what I see in you."

Derek perked up from his seat, whimpers and whines ages away as he grinned, "You see something in me?"

Spencer stammered, "I—I didn't say that exactly."

"I knew you wanted this chocolate caramel mocha latte express," Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "It's obvious, darling. You like your coffee my shade, don't you?"

Spencer muttered, "Th...that has nothing to do with-"

"Oh? Yes, it does, Doctor," Derek winked, "Why you so obsessed with me?"

Spencer huffed out, "Don't you start quoting Mariah—"

Derek continued, "Whoa, calm down, Sensei. You're cute and all, but I'd rather you wait until after the dance to jump my bones—seeing as you're all eager for it."

Spencer exploded, "Rrr! I never even said that! You just want to go on and assume things about people! People that you don't even know, by the way, like who even are you? I just met you and ever since then you've been such a rude, uppity, douchy—freaking—I can't stand—you're so goddamn—" Spencer's flushed anger soon took the form of frustration before he paused and pressed his fingers to his temples, "Oh, God," Spencer hissed, eyes closing as he rubbed his forehead, "I'm getting a stress headache. Look at what you did, Derek. Are you proud? Because now I'm in pain. Is that that you wanted?"

Derek paused, "You _literally_ just did that to yourself."

Spencer hissed, "I'm not talking to you."

Derek continued, "I can't believe I just watched you stress yourself out. You combusted like a little balloon with too much air in it."

Spencer growled, "Derek."

Derek motioned with his hands, "You went… pop."

Spencer kept one hand poised at his temples and the other crumpling to a fist in Derek's direction as he seemed far beyond words, "Let's just dance before I kill you."

And with a satisfied smile, Derek stood and made his way out of the confessional with his Tylenol popping dance partner.

* * *

Derek and Spencer were third. Penelope sat beside Derek with a flourish in her gauzy blue ball gown as the first couple made their way onto the dance floor with a tango. He didn't watch the dancing couple or even notice Penelope at his side for a solid minute. He was too preoccupied with going over the dance steps in his head as his headphones blasted The Hives.

He worried about the set pieces they'd only practiced once with. He worried about his timing around the first chorus. He worried about Spencer's headache. He worried about their fanbase and wondered if it were going to fall due to the closeness of the two men during this dance. It's not like the quickstep was in anyway racy or sexual. Spencer and Derek were just required to touch more often and while they could cheat with the Jive, they needed to know early on that no matter how goofy they got in their dances… they were a couple. A dance couple, but a _couple_ nonetheless. They pair danced and they had to tackle ballroom and Latin just like every other pair. Derek and Spencer weren't going to be given cop out after cop out so that they could put up the illusion that they weren't into each other. The two had to prove that they could pair dance just as romantically as the other eleven.

So, yeah, he was stressing out.

A lot.

While he was unloading some of his stress through teasing Spencer, the young dancer was past annoyance. Besides, now that the kid has a headache, Derek should probably back off. Well... just a little.

Penelope rested her head on his shoulder and Derek noticed that her soft blonde hair smelled like strawberries. He smiled. She was comforting to him. He doesn't know why, but ever since they'd met the had been just as compatible as two peas in a pod. Penelope was like that other half he didn't know he'd been looking for and he'd only seen her a handful of times. She smiled, "What's up, Black Beauty? You seem a little down."

Derek shrugged and glanced over at Spencer whom was leaning back on the couch with a cold damp cloth on his forehead, "Not down. A little on edge, but... trying to stay positive."

Penelope giggled, "What? Trouble in paradise?"

Derek smirked, "No, we've always argued. It's just tonight. I'm bugging out over the quickstep."

She gasped loudly, "You've got the quickstep?! On your second week?!"

Derek nodded, "I know, Mama. I know."

"Well, you'll nail it. You always do," Penelope replied with an easy smile.

Derek narrowed his eyes, "You've only seen me dance once."

Penelope added, "Once and a half. I caught you and Spencer pseudo-rehearsing in the Red Room."

Derek grinned at her, "We couldn't really jump around packed in with a bunch of sweaty, glittery people."

She looked at him knowingly from under her bangs, "You two sure could hold hands though."

Derek covered, waving his hands around, "We weren't _holding hands_. It was a dance position."

Penelope chuckled, "That just happens to include hand holding."

"I call it 'end-of-arm guidance'," Derek corrected, "It's manlier and more true."

Penelope nudged Derek's shoulder, "On the topic of 'manliness', may I ask the same-sex team… who's going to be the woman tonight?"

Spencer hissed from close to Derek's other shoulder, one hand clutching an ice cold can of soda to his temple, "We're both men! That doesn't change because one dances on the left side!"

Derek replied, "He offered. To be honest, he seemed a bit too excited. I had to talk him out of wearing a dress."

Spencer growled under his breath, "When this headache fades, Derek, I swear to God... it's going to be you, me, and a handful of lethal subatomic particles."

Penelope laughed aloud, a soft high sound, "Well, he seems happy about it."

* * *

After the second team got their scores, Derek and Spencer headed down the steps together during the commercial. Their little cottage wall was wheeled in and Spencer whispered over to him, "You're going to do great."

Derek let out a nervous grin, fiddling with the lapels of his zoot suit jacket, "I'll try."

"Don't _try_. Do it. You may be a douchebag, but damn if you can't dance," Spencer reached out as they cleared the bottom step and his hand brushed against Derek's and he slid their fingers together briefly before continuing on. Derek snapped his head up to look at him and under the low lights, he could see Spencer blush. The dancer adjusted his hat, pushing his hair behind his ear tellingly and looking up at Derek with cheeks tinted with blush, "End-of-arm guidance."

For once, Derek decided to let it go and _not_ tease the living shit out of him. Even though he _so_ wanted to.

This was as close as Spencer would ever get to outright saying "I believe in you". He felt a small smile push onto the corners of his lips as he held that information to his chest. Spencer really didn't have to do that for him.

He could have nudged his shoulder or slapped his back, to convey the same message, but Spencer chose to brush his hand against Derek's. It was almost like the kid would have grabbed it completely and gone for a little "ten finger tango" action. Did Spencer want to hold his hand as much as Derek wanted to hold his? Maybe he's reading too much into it. Yeah, he's totally reading too much into it.

The crew left the stage and the camera guy called out, "Fifteen seconds till house is up! Thirteen! Twelve! Eleven…"

Derek jogged over to the cottage wall and walked around it, giving Spencer one last look before disappearing behind it and hearing the gut dropping sound of the theme music riling up again. Derek glanced up to the stage as their little week long video played. He half hoped that the camera team edited around their flirting.

**_Spencer grabbed the titled card by the edge of the room and opened it, looking over at Derek with excitement, "This is the moment of truth."_**

**_Derek tapped his hands on the barre and made a drum roll sound._**

**_Spencer read the card, "Qu….whoa. I thought they weren't going to give us these. At least for a while."_**

**_Derek stopped his hands, "What? What did we get?"_**

**_Spencer cleared his throat, "Quickstep."_**

**_Derek paused, "Oh… sh*_**_beep_**_*t."_**

**_Spencer sighed, "Yeah, I know. I just had several other dances prepared to teach. I didn't even consider the quickstep to be an option. Not this week."_**

**_Derek grinned, "Does that mean practice is cancelled?"_**

**_Spencer laughed, "Are you kidding? This is a hard one, we're going to need every minute we've got."_**

**_Derek winked, "That's what she said."_**

**_Spencer glared heatlessly._**

The scene cut to Spencer showing Derek his first few steps.

**_There Spencer was dancing with the grace of a fucking swan in a Caltech sweatshirt, and there Derek stood, watching with a look on his face that made it seem like he was two seconds away from blowing chunks. Derek gave him a pointed look, "I'm not doing that. It's too hard. Show me something else."_**

**_"You haven't even tried it," Spencer said breathily, looking back at Derek with wide eyes._**

**_Derek folded his arms, "I don't need to."_**

**_Spencer sighed, "Just try the damned combination, Derek. No need to be difficult."_**

**_Derek replied, "You're just getting all touchy because you're the woman."_**

**_"I'm not the—" Spencer clutched the bridge of his nose, "I'm dancing opposite you, and in this dance, one must lead and one must follow. I'm not the woman, you misogynist, I am simply the follower."_**

**_Derek chuckled, "Are you gonna wear a skirt?"_**

**_Spencer folded his arms and gave Derek a look._**

**_Derek broke down into a laugh, "I can just see you now in those frilly little outfits with the tassels and sh*beep*t."_**

**_Spencer grimaced, "Are you done?"_**

**_Derek bent over cackling, hands on his knees, "Your hairy-ass legs would look hilarious with strappy heels all up them. Oh, my God. I'm dying! Help me, man, I think I'm dying!"_**

**_"Derek," Spencer muttered, shaking his head slowly, "How old are you? Five?"_**

**_Derek wiped a tear from his eye, wheezing, "Goddamn that was funny."_**

After that, Derek was shown in the Friday afternoon confessional room to speak about his take on the halfway point.

**_Derek stared into the screen with a defeated look on his face, "This guy is kicking me, man. Like seriously. Kicking. Forcefully. All over the hardwood."_**

**_*A clip played over Derek's voice of Spencer kicking Derek in the rear to straighten his back.*_**

**_Derek continued, "He won't let up! It's like he has no idea that I'm husky as hell. I could sit on him and shut him up. Easy," as he said that, a small smile appeared on Derek's face, "But, the Hell he's raining down on me… it's working. I'll tell ya. I'm gliding around that floor like a damned swan. Problem is, he's comfortable. He thinks that cute little 'pissed off face' will make me his bitch, but it won't."_**

**_*A clip played of Spencer glaring Derek into submission after he had mistakenly stomped on Spencer's foot as they practiced a step.*_**

**_"Okay, it does. But just a little," Derek grimaced, "I'm no match for the frowny eyes and puppy pout. They get me every time… damn him."_**

Spencer was shown in the Friday afternoon confessional room as well.

**_He stated, "Derek Morgan is the largest, rudest, jerkiest, most persistent pain in my ass that I have ever had in my entire life. I'm not kidding. I spend most of the rehearsals debating whether to punch him in the face or not."_**

**_*a clip was shown of Derek poking Spencer in the shoulder over, and over, and over again until the dancer turned around and screeched at him to quit it*_**

**_"Seriously. This man pisses me off like nothing in the world does. He's got mountains of unnecessary attitude, makes the most inappropriate comments imaginable, and he's so stubborn that I'm surprised he can function," Spencer sighed angrily as he continued, "But there's something about him that's just... I don't know... weirdly..." Spencer grumbled in frustration as his voice trailed off. He pushed his hair aside, face growing red._**

**_*The two were sitting down underneath the barre, water bottles in hand. Their words were edited out, and they were talking about God knows what. Derek suddenly leaned over and ruffled Spencer's hair as he took a sip of water, and the dancer looked up at him from the tirade on his hair. Spencer's brown eyes softened. He smiled a little bit. Then, he elbowed Derek hard in the ribs, "I told you not to touch the hair!" Derek doubled over in pain and Spencer's smile widened. He looked back over at Derek while he was distracted and he could swear the dancer's face went a little red. Spencer bit his lip and looked away.*_**

**_"Fine, whatever. I'll be a man and admit it. I think he's cute. No big deal," Spencer laughed in the confessional, hiding his face in his hands, "It's not like I have a stupid crush on him or anything."_**

**_*Derek walked by Spencer in the studio room, sassing him about what he was NOT going to be doing in the dance. The large man bumped Spencer as he walked by and the camera followed Spencer. Spencer growled and watched after him. His anger melted away for a moment and he stared after Derek, biting away his own smile as he struggled to contain it. Derek turned and glanced at Spencer and the dancer returned a glare*_**

**_Spencer continued, "I mean, it's _**_Derek_**_, you know? Eww. Gross. I would never. I'm just saying. He happens to be aesthetically... _****_ugh, you know what? I'm digging myself the biggest hole. I'm just going to shut up now," Spencer looked into the camera pleadingly, "You're not using any of this, right? Please don't."_**

Derek watched from behind the prop house, eyes wide and disbelieving. Whoa. Spencer just admitted to... harboring a thing for him. On national television. Derek's insides were filled with really warm jelly, and the butterflies in his gut from dance nerves just increased by a factor of one billion. Derek glanced over at Spencer whom was standing behind another prop, staring up at the screen, unmoving with his hand slammed over his mouth. The kid was mortified.

Oh, shit.

That wasn't supposed to get out, was it?

He didn't have time to react before another clip of Team Wild Card was shown from their fourth rehearsal.

**_Derek and Spencer were beside each other with their arms straight out in fifth position, their feet moving at the exact same time on one beat. Spencer had brought in tap shoes for the both of them so that he could hear their feet hitting the floor simultaneously. The first seven times, Derek messed up, but in this clip, his head was held straight up and he executed everything perfectly. The music ended and a smile crept up on Spencer's face as they hit a closing position._**

**_Before Spencer could lower his arms, Derek grabbed him up in his arms and started spinning him around the studio. Spencer started laughing and followed the very loosely done ballroom glide as Derek shouted out, "Yeah! I got it, I got it!"_**

**_Spencer laughed out, "Yes, you've got it! You did it!"_**

**_Derek added, "I did, didn't I? Yes, you're the best teacher ever!"_**

**_Spencer blushed as Derek twirled him around, "I wouldn't go that far."_**

**_Derek slowed the spinning, pushing Spencer's hair out of his face, "I would!"_**

The time passed again with a classy little montage of them quickstepping and Derek failing over and over again. The final clip was the one of Spencer and Derek in the confessional room before the show.

**_Spencer __replied, turning to the camera with a stern face, "He has a lot of work to do, but he is definitely improving."_**

**_Derek smirked, "Oh, that's not the word you used backstage. I think you called me something like... Lord of Dance, King of Ballroom, Guru of Gettin' Down."_**

**_Spencer turned around, "I'm not afraid to hit you. Your muscles don't scare me."_**

**_Derek laughed out loud, "Bring it, toothpick. Hit me. Go for it."_**

**_Spencer raised his eyebrows, "You serious?"_**

**_Derek held out his arm, "Yeah, man, lay it on me."_**

**_"You know what? Fine. This right here is for all of the pain and anguish you've caused me in the last two weeks," Spencer preluded before raising his hand over Derek's arm, "I'm giving you time to back out, now."_**

**_Derek rolled his eyes._**

**_Spencer shrugged, reached out and smacked Derek on the arm as hard as he could. Pain shot up his elbow and Derek felt himself stiffening up and gripping it, leaning back on the seat with an, "Ahhh, God!"_**

**_Spencer looked back at the camera with a satisfied look on his face, "I'm the one in control here. Just FYI."_**

The stage softly plunged into darkness and that British announcer guy said into the room, "Dancing the quickstep, Derek Morgan and his partner Doc Reid."

Lights went up quickly and the band pounded through the speakers with the bass and drums on loud as the singers yelled out, "_Yeah, yeah, yeah_!"

Derek couldn't be distracted from what he'd just seen and heard. He had to act quickly, and dance. Now! He jumped out of the cottage wall door and hit his mark downstage, turning to see Spencer who crept along the side of the wall as if he'd been hiding there the entire time. Spencer gave him a doe eyed look and twiddled his hat in time to the music.

"_You've got the… troubles, but… I can help_." the singers said seductively.

Derek took off his own hat and tossed it as they screamed, "_Yeah_!"

Spencer ran across the stage and flew into Derek's arms as he started the combination, leading Spencer around the floor to the beat of the upbeat song. Their feet flew and Derek held Spencer at arm's length until it came time for them to part.

_"First in line and last to know_!"

The two jogged across the stage from each other and hopped up and down on their own, doing the same fifth position steps that Spencer was showing him with the tap shoes.

"_Move too fast and then too slow_!"

Spencer did a quick turn and ran back towards Derek and they pushed off of each other's hands.

"_People see me and they go... woo hoo_!"

Derek approached Spencer whom was throwing his hands up and circling around only to be caught and spun around to meet Derek once more. Then, they tapped out combination after combination.

When the music slowed, Derek held Spencer close and they swayed gently. A loud "aww" brushed through the crowd and Derek could feel Spencer's warm, soft lips smiling beside his cheek. "_On, and on. The world spins 'round. It's enough to get you down. But I don't worry. Because sometimes you just have to..._" Their stubble brushed before they parted to jump into another quick footed step set. Spencer went first and Derek stepped off to follow him, placing his hand at Spencer's hip and moving his feet to the beat.

Then, it happened.

Derek lost time.

Shit.

He missed his place and felt Spencer's lips purse for a split moment as he tried to fix himself to meld back into Spencer's perfect thrumming feet. Derek clenched his jaw and found a way to adjust his steps. The whole ordeal lasted barely more than two seconds, but it was enough to piss Derek off. He kept his chin held high and hoped his face didn't give him away. That divided the winners from the losers. He was allowed to fuck up, as long as it didn't look like it bothered him. But, it did. God, it did. The dance was finally over and it ended with Derek running back into the cottage wall and leaving Spencer sitting on the ground. The crowd began to clap and Derek brought himself through the door again to join Spencer.

Spencer gathered him up into a brief side-armed hug and patted his back as they separated, whispering, "It was fine. They barely noticed. You did good, man."

"Fuck," Derek grimaced and wrapped his arm around Spencer's shoulders, walking them up to the judges table. Looking down at them, Derek could feel the conviction. Dammit. The male host beside him asked them calmly, "Very interesting dance, you two. How did you both feel about it?"

Spencer grinned tiredly, "Derek did great tonight. I'm proud of him."

Derek looked over at Spencer and gave him a silent 'you didn't have to say that'.

Spencer gave back a just as silent 'I don't give a fuck I said it anyway'.

The two looked over at Jennifer as the crowd settled down and she raised her hands in earnest, "Derek you did a very good job tackling a very difficult dance, so props for that. The two of you are so cute, I really enjoyed your chemistry and the slow part was just adorable."

The crowd whooped in agreement.

Jennifer continued with a flip of her blonde hair, "That being true, Derek, I've gotta say… _yikes_. What was that over there in the middle of the dance? When you lost your footing, you let it ruin your mood. Your jaw was like 'rrh' through the rest of the dance, and it was really distracting how mad you were at yourself. It's just week two. It's fine if you mess up."

He heard a loud, "We still love you, 43! We still love you!" from the crowd as they all clapped for him.

Derek began to smile a bit and he felt Spencer's arm tighten around his waist.

Hotch gave a frown, "But, we're not going to discount the fact that it happened. You need to pay more attention to the beats of the music. If the song is in ¾, you dance in ¾, do you understand? Keep that motion in your upper leg; make sure it gets to the base of your feet, and watch your posture. Since your heights are so close, you tend to stick your bum out. You have to remember that Doc, while androgynous, isn't a woman. You're a big guy yourself, but he's taller than you."

Derek nodded.

Spencer winced, "I wouldn't say _androgynous_…"

Jennifer replied easily, "I would."

Hotch added, "You two are very likeable, and the way you dance together is odd. But, it's the right kind of odd, I really think the competition needed this type of pairing a long time ago. You both show that you don't have to be a male/female couple to dance ballroom and dance it well. I can't wait to see more from you. Jennifer is right, it's only the second week. Mistakes happen. We still overall adored your performance."

The crowd yelled in earnest and Spencer wiggled at his side excitedly.

Rossi stood and tossed his arms up into the air, "Derek Morgan, you sexy beast! Your hips don't lie, now do they?! They don't know how to, the way you snapped them around! Shakira! Shakira!"

The crowd let out a bark of laughter.

Rossi grinned, "Your mistake was very apparent. Yes, it was minimal, but I'll have to agree with Jennifer as well. It put a pout on your face, and we really wish it didn't, because you did a great job. The tension was fiery, you two are wonderful together, and Doc," Rossi added with a wag of his finger, "Don't think we didn't catch that hand thing you did before the dance! And now you're calling each other 'cute'? Do we have a relationship alert here?!"

The crowd rooted loudly, "Yes!"

Derek shook his head and waved his hands around wildly, "No!"

Jennifer laughed, "You sure about that?"

Spencer blushed and replied, "Yes, we're sure."

The male host butted in, "Okay, it's time for you two to go up and hear your scores."

Derek and Spencer separated and turned to the steps, heading across the stage. As they reached it, Spencer leaned over and took Derek's hand. Tingles went up his arm as the man did so, and Derek looked over at him as they headed up the stairs, "What are you doing?"

Spencer spoke simply under his breath, "Whether we like it or not, we're splooging 'gay' all over the place and the crowd is eating it up."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "So?"

Spencer replied, "After your fuck up, we need all the fangirl votes we can get."

Derek tightened his hand around Spencer's and hissed, "I'm sorry, okay!"

Spencer said as they cleared the stairs with a pinched smile, "If we go home, I'm kicking every inch of your ass. Then, I'm coming back for seconds."

Derek gulped and approached the female host whom was waiting at the top of the stairs to reveal their scores from the judges. The woman grinned brightly in her chiffon red dress and asked them, hinting toward their linked hands, winking over at them, "So... Doc. You think Derek is cute?"

Spencer blushed. His humiliating confessional was clearly the last thing he wanted to talk about. He muttered, "I was hoping no one would mention that..."

Derek folded his arms and smirked as he poured salt on the wound, "Yeah, what was that back there? You push me around all the time and I'm suddenly cute now?"

"No! Well... yes, but... not like that!" Spencer hid his face in his hands, genuinely embarrassed, "Tony said he'd get rid of the footage."

Derek nodded, "So, the arm slap wasn't you pulling my metaphorical pigtails?"

Spencer said through his fingers, "I'm not... I am in no way... I didn't mean for it to come out like... ugh... I'm sorry."

The crowd laughed at his misfortune.

"Don't be sorry, dude, come here," Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "It's cool. No worries."

Spencer looked up at him, "Really?"

Derek shook his head, "Hell no. Expect the teasing to get worse. I have so much canon fodder now, you don't even know."

The host cooed, "You two are adorable. Ready to hear your scores?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Derek replied.

The screen showed Jennifer holding up her card. She had given them a "7". Eek. Next, Hotch raised his card. They'd gotten another "7". Shit. Rossi raised his last. He had awarded them their third "7". Spencer rubbed the back of Derek's hand with his thumb. Fucking _ouch_.

The host turned to the two men, "That gives the two of you a score of twenty-one out of thirty. How do you feel about that?"

Spencer spoke, "No matter what score we got, I'm proud of our performance. Yes, it wasn't the best, but I wouldn't take it back."

Derek added, "I really enjoyed learning the dance. I could have done better, but we had fun, and I really hope that shone through."

* * *

As the night drew to a close, Derek sat in his dressing room with his head in his hands. He couldn't believe they got three sevens. After all that they went through, Derek can't have ended it now. He's only spent two weeks in this competition and it was one of the most emotional, physically traumatic, exciting times of his life.

Plus, he met the erratic Spencer. The one that changed everything for him in an instant he walked through the studio door to see him standing there. The one that after all of the poking and prodding and teasing... actually thinks he's cute.

Derek doesn't think he could handle it if they went home so early. Besides the fact that Spencer and Derek would be separated by several time zones… only the losers get sent home early. And Derek wasn't a loser. Hell, according to Rossi, _his hips don't lie_. If that's not a compliment on his technique, Derek doesn't know what it is.

Yet, here he is with a score of 21 out of 30, wondering if he'll lose all of this because he tripped and let it get to him.

Fuck.

There was a quiet knocking on Derek's dressing room door, and he heard a small shuffle of feet on the other side. Standing with a huff, Derek walked over to the door and opened it to see an angry looking Spencer.

Ah, yes. Then, there's that. He must be here for the ass kicking ceremony.

Dressed in the tux pants he danced in and a blue button up, stifled into a heavy grey cable-knit sweater and red tie, Spencer didn't really seem to be one for violence, but Derek wasn't dumb enough to let that fool him. He sighed and let Spencer into his room. Spencer stomped into it grumpily. Closing the door, Derek turned and rubbed his hand along his face, "Go ahead, lay it on me. What do you want to yell at me about?"

Spencer whispered as quietly as he could, "My mic pack is stuck in my pants and I can't get it out."

Derek stifled a chuckle, "Are you serious?"

Spencer held a finger to his lips, "If I say anything loud enough, the entire ballroom will hear it."

Derek shrugged, "Isn't everybody gone by now?"

Spencer motioned, "The seats still have people in them and the last thing I need is for everyone to hear me in here with you—"

Derek rolled his eyes and folded his arms, "Oh, so this is about your little love confession."

Spencer hissed, "Oh, come on. Don't be a fifth grader, Derek."

Derek folded his arms and remarked, "I'm not being a fifth grader. You're the one who told America that you had a crush on me."

Spencer's eyes flashed with frustration as he whispered out, "I do _not_ have a crush you! You just have a pretty face, and right now I would like nothing more than to punch it until it shuts up! Now, go in my back pocket and untangle the damned mic pack!"

Derek sighed and motioned for Spencer to turn around. As he did so, Derek smirked and let his eyes roam along the pleasant expanse of the dancer's butt. Boy, was it cute; just sitting there all sweet and tender, ripe for the touching.

Spencer growled, "Stop. Staring. At. My. Ass."

"You don't want me to look with my eyes, fine," Derek took the opportunity to latch his hand firmly onto Spencer's rear and give it a testing squeeze. Right cheek. Wow, it feels great. Round, yet sculpted in all the right places.

Spencer yelped and jumped away from him as he shouted, "What the hell, Derek?!"

Derek laughed a side splitting laugh, "Boy, where have you been hiding that butt?"

Spencer screeched, "None of your business, you perv!"

Derek cackled, "No doubt the ballroom heard that!"

Spencer slapped a hand over his own mouth and glared, pointing at his pants. Quaking with laughter, Derek reached into Spencer's back pocket and pulled out the small pack, untangling it from the seam at the base of the pocket before handing it to him.

He abruptly turned it off and glared at Derek, "I said take out the mic pack, not _grab my ass_."

Derek smirked, "I don't understand why not. You've got a nice one; firm and toned, yet plump and perky. I should know, since I got a nice handful."

Spencer let out a low growl.

Derek scoffed, "What, dude? I refuse to believe you've gone your whole life without anyone ever copping a feel on you. Hell, people have grabbed _my_ ass on several occasions. Complete strangers too! I'd be in the grocery store and hands will just appear out of the clear blue sky. It's a blessing and a curse, come to think of it."

Spencer folded his arms, "I'll have you know, not _nearly_ as many people have touched my bottom. I don't just whore it out."

Derek asked curiously, "Well, then, who has had the honor?"

Spencer glared, indignantly, "None of your beeswax, asshole."

Derek chuckled, "Did you just say 'beeswax'? The last person I've ever heard say that was six-years-old."

Spencer looked Derek over, "I spend plenty of time with six-year-olds, and I can verify that I've never heard that statement from either of them."

Derek asked, "Dude, why were you hanging around first graders?"

Spencer answered, "What do you think I do for a living, Derek? Sit on the studio floor, listen to Sarah McLachlan, and wait for you to get back?"

Derek rebuffed awkwardly, "I… uh… yeah?"

Spencer nodded, "Because, of course, the world revolves around you and that's the obvious answer."

Derek rebounded, "Well, you're a dancer! What else do dancers do, other than _dance_?!"

Spencer glared at him, "_Teach_, genius. Friday mornings at nine, I hold a tap class for elementary school children."

Derek paused, "…oh. I guess, that's why our rehearsals start at noon that day..."

Spencer shrugged, "They pay me thirty five bucks an hour per child, so it's really not bad."

Derek gave a considering nod, "Yeah, that's actually pretty sweet."

"I also belong to this one ballet company in San Fran that does seasonal performances for charity and some sparingly for commission, Derek, I don't live in the building." Spencer said, eyes flicking back up to his partner's, "I'm working on my masters in Psychology as well."

Derek peered into Spencer's eyes, "A masters degree? Right now? Come on, man, you don't have the time to do—"

Spencer leaned against the closed door, "Wednesday and Thursday nights, I take a three-hour night class and I'm in the middle of two twenty-page papers."

Derek nodded once more, "I'm starting to understand the coffee thing."

Spencer's hand trailed toward the door handle, "Good. Not that I'm not thoroughly enjoying your butt grabbing and offensive stereotyping and all, but I have… stuff to do, so…"

Derek gestured toward the door, "Sure! By all means. Skadoodle."

"Okay, awesome," Spencer smiled good-naturedly and pulled open the door, pausing to add, "And don't beat yourself up tonight, man, you did amazingly. There's no doubt I'll see you Wednesday morning for the Awkward Parade."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Awkward Parade?"

Spencer grinned, "You're taking me to prom, remember?"

Derek nodded after a moment, "Right, right! Prom week! Corsages. Tuxes. Glitter. Gotcha. Just have to make it through elimination."

"We'd better," Spencer leaned on the door and looked over at him, "I never went to my prom so you have my dreams to live up to. If I don't feel like a princess, I won't put out."

Derek let out a laugh, "Either way, I'll still respect you in the morning, baby."

"I'll hold you to that," Spencer laughed back.

* * *

**A/N: You're going to want to tune in for next week's chapter, because tensions (and other things) rise as prom night gets closer.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	6. Turn Up the Heat

**A/N: So, Corbin Bleu's Paso Doble last week was so good, it brought me to tears. Just because of that, I'm including a Paso in this story sometime later on, because this story seems incomplete without it (besides, _fudgeeeee_ I can just see it with Morgan and Reid and it would be too perfect). **

**Please check it out on Hulu. You don't need Hulu Plus for it or anything, just like go to the Dancing With the Stars thing, because that Paso is so freaking incredibs.**

**No, seriously though. Watch that Paso, my beautifuls.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER SIX: Turn Up the Heat

Turns out, Derek and Spencer had nothing to worry about during elimination; they were quickly given their pass to dance next week.

The main issue was the fangirls.

You see, whenever two men get relatively close to each other, the Internet cries 'gay'. Whether the men have feelings for each other or not, they are still lovingly taunted and jibbed about their budding relationship by the people on media sites, television networks, and celebrity mags—whether this so-called relationship existed or not. Let's break it down for those who aren't familiar with all this mumbo-jumbo, shall we? From the word "relationship" comes the shortened Internet term "ship", which is a verb. So, in turn, "shipping" or "to ship" means "to actively enjoy the idea of two people being in a relationship".

Then, there are ship _names_. Like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt's ship name was "Bradgelina", more and more ship names are bred every day and vary from pairing to pairing. According to Twitter, Derek's and Spencer's ship name was "Moreid"—a clever combination of Derek _Morgan_ and Dr. Spencer _Reid_.

After yesterday's ballroom dance, attraction confession, and hand-holding fiasco, the ship was spread very quickly and within hours, Derek saw hundreds upon hundreds of tweets under #TeamWildCard hounding Derek on information about his proclaimed soon-to-be boyfriend. And with that, the tag #TeamMoreid was born.

At the sight of that new fan-made tag in his Twitter timeline, Derek let out a small smile. He thinks it suits them.

Wednesday morning came and as Derek walked into the studio, Spencer was leaning against the barre stretching. His foot was cradled on the highest of the two as he pushed against it, putting pressure on his hamstrings. Derek smiled at the sight of him and his eyes trailed down his partner's body appraisingly. It was then he realized that Spencer hadn't yet noticed him. Awesome. More time to stare. And, this was prime time for starin' because, unlike rehearsals in the past, Spencer's not drowned in a baggy sweater today. He's wearing a tee shirt. And not just any tee shirt—a nice one. It was a deep navy, nearly black with a slight v that teased at his clavicles. It was three quarter length, ending just below his elbow, and it fit his spindly frame well without seeming too clingy or cheap.

If Derek was completely honest, it seemed like quite the flirty top for a guy. It was more like something Derek would wear to the gym if he was looking to pick someone up, but still get a good workout in. His eyebrows danced and he walked toward his partner.

He tip toed, reveling in the fact that his instructor didn't know he was in the room yet. Derek inched closer and closer as the dancer stretched. Spencer switched his legs on the barre and Derek approached him, breathing into his ear, "Gimmie your wallet!"

"Ah! What the-" Spencer jumped, clearly unaware Derek was in the room prior to his announcement, and pulled his leg from the barre before turning, "Jesus, man, you scared the crap out of me."

Derek grinned and took a step back, "Hey, Pretty Boy. Extra stress on the 'pretty' today. How you doing this morning?"

"My heart is racing, you ass, I can't even hear you oversexualizing me over the furious pounding in my ears," Spencer smacked Derek's arm, hand still on his own chest as his breathing slowed.

Derek's eyebrow raised, "What did you say about furious pounding?"

Spencer glared at him, "_Don't_."

Derek surrendered easily, leaning his back onto the barre, "Fine."

Spencer hissed out, "Do you just not make noise when you enter a room, or did you wake up this morning planning to be even more of a dick than you usually are?"

"I'm catlike; I prefer a silent approach," Derek continued toward him, biting his lip flirtatiously as his arms reached for Spencer, "Meow."

Spencer let out a nervous laugh, "Derek, you're really weird."

Derek shrugged and pulled him into a friendly hug, "And _you_ look extra handsome. I brought you coffee to apologize for grabbing on your butt last night. Forgive me please. I promise I'll never grope you again unless you ask for it."

"Aww, how could I not forgive you? You're like one of those dogs that's left alone at home too long," the dancer's arms curled low around Derek's waist and he pushed his face into Derek's neck.

Derek said into Spencer's hair, "Did I say you look great today? Because, woof-woof, yowza, unga-unga, Helloooo nurse. Can I wolf whistle? Because damn, girl, you's a ten."

Spencer laughed, "Yeah, don't worry, you mentioned it. Feeling more inappropriate than usual this morning, I'm guessing?"

Derek breathed quietly, "You have no idea."

"Okay! Hug's over," Spencer announced, stepping out of Derek's strong arms with very pink cheeks. He ran his hand through his chin length hair like he always does and shifted, "So… I'm gonna just change the subject and hand you this here envelope. Let's find out what we're dancing at the prom."

Derek snatched it from Spencer's thin fingered hand and grinned, ripping it open.

"Somebody's excited," Spencer chuckled, "This attitude better translate to focus today."

Derek pulled the tiny sheet of cardboard out and scanned the word before raising his eyebrow, "Huh. Argentine Tango."

Spencer jumped in glee, grabbing the paper from him and reading it over, "Ah, yes! I love this dance! I have the perfect choreography! It's going to go so well with the theme! Woo hoo!"

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Now, who's the excited one?"

Spencer grinned, "Both of us! Now, come on," he grabbed at the edge of Derek's sweatshirt, "Let's do some floorwork."

Derek bit his tongue before he could let out some sexual comment about _floors_ and putting in _work_ that would likely result in a slap in the face. With a huff, Derek followed his dance partner onto the floor and sat beside him with his feet stretched out. Sometimes, Spencer liked to do yoga. According to him, it helps quite a lot with muscle relaxation, grace, balance, core conditioning, and blah blah blah.

Derek decided he hated it weeks ago for seven legitimate reasons.

Reason #1: Derek is not a pretzel. He should not be convincing his limbs otherwise.

Reason #2: Derek weighs two hundred and thirteen pounds. There's no way in fucking hell he's balancing on his pinky toe without pads on. For fear of damaging the floor.

Reason #3: The blatant, unabashed _thought_ of how flexible Spencer might be does not help his libido in any way, shape, or form. So, the blatant, unabashed _sight_ of it, is enough to have Mr. MVP down for the count.

Reason #4: Did he just... oh, sweet Buddha.

Reason #5: Spencer can drop down into a full split.

Reason #6: Holy shit.

Reason #7: And now he's tossing his hair out of his face and shaking it behind him like *sob*

* * *

The song Spencer chose was so. Fucking. Provocative. That little shit. How dare he be so excited over a dance that is supposed to be complex and deep and then go and put on... _that_?! It's not like the song was all that racy. There have been racier. It was on the radio summer of 2006, but that's not the point! The point is that Derek must sit quietly and dance to a song that speaks his deepest, weirdest, most recently acquired kink and act like it's no big deal when—uh_, big deal_.

Spencer decided on "When You're Mad" by Ne-yo—and by 'decided on', Derek means Spencer told him that's what they were dancing to and arguing with him wouldn't be wise.

If you know the song from a handful of years ago, you're probably biting your lip and going, "Oh, crap. Bad idea." If you don't know the song, Google it, Spotify it, Youtube it, Reddit it, Tumble it, make a goddamn Pandora station centered around it because you need to understand _just how Derek feels_. The song's about a strained relationship that just might be strained on purpose because the main man, Ne-yo, is turned on by the reaction his object of affection gives when he angers her. There's a lyric that says verbatim: "Could it be the little wrinkle over your nose when you make your angry face. That makes me wanna just take off all your clothes and sex you all over the place."

Now, this wouldn't be as bad a subject if Spencer didn't give that same exact cute little pissed off expression whenever Derek misbehaves. Hell, it wouldn't be as bad if he and Ne-yo didn't share the same frustration. Even if all of those factors didn't come into play, it's still quite obvious that Spencer did not think this through.

Derek sighed, "This is a family show, Spencer. We can't prance around to a song that mentions oral twice."

Spencer replied easily, "The stage chorus sings it, so we'll send them safe lyrics."

Derek argued, "I don't want to send the chorus _safe lyrics_, Spencer!"

Spencer asked, "Why?"

Derek answered, "Because we're a dude-dude dance couple, kid! Get that through your oversized brain! It may be a new millennium, but the old prejudices still exist! I'm not Beyoncé! I'm not Kerry Washington! I'm a football player and you're a male ballroom dancer! If we dance to a song like this, we'll—"

"Freak people out? Be criticized? Get slammed by the public? Derek, I know," Spencer replied with a roll of his eyes, "I saw what happened during out first elimination. I saw how we were treated, okay, I understand that people get weirded out watching us. Man, **_I_** get weirded out watching us. But, that's only because I've lived my whole life being told that I could only dance with girls, despite who I slept with, and it messed me up. I don't want the future generation thinking like that."

Derek sighed, "What do you want them to think, Spencer?"

Spencer gave Derek an earnest look, "I want kids to watch this with their parents and ask why they were allowed to watch Will and Peta dance to Sexy Silk last week, but they get their eyes covered when Derek and Spencer do the same exact thing to Ne-yo. I want them to see what's wrong with that. I want them to wonder why we pick and choose who dances correctly, and who is judged correctly, and who loves correctly. I want them to question that. I want them to challenge that. I want them to _think for themselves_ and not be so _conditioned_ to be weirded out by us, Derek. That's what I want."

Derek watched him as he spoke and took a breath. Their eyes locked and Derek could feel Spencer's passion on the topic. This wasn't just a dance to Spencer. This wasn't just a partnership. This was an opportunity to make a difference, and dammit if the kid wasn't taking it.

"Three kids dropped my class after our first dance," Spencer looked forlorn, "And after I held your hand two days ago, I got seven angry phone calls and nine more children were pulled out by their parents. If this continues, I won't have any students, because these adults don't want a man who dances with another man to spend time with their children. They don't want me talking to them, teaching them, Derek, they don't want me in the same room as them. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like shit. That's how it makes me feel. So, yeah, I want to show them all that we can turn up the heat and not get burned, but most importantly, I want those kids watching to see what their parents can't. Two people. Dancing."

Closing the distance between them, Derek encased Spencer in a hug, wrapping his arms around the dancer's thin frame and pulling him into his chest. Spencer was so small and warm, yet stable and firm. He hugged Derek back—albeit hesitantly—and when he did, he fit perfectly into Derek's arms. Spencer's hands found Derek's lower back as Derek's found Spencer's upper. While the dancer was taller, it wasn't by enough to change how close their faces would be if they'd moved a fraction of an inch so that their lips brushed instead of their ears. Holding back a soft chuckle, Derek noticed that Spencer does that little thing where he presses his nose into his neck and burrows a bit. It's obnoxiously cute, and probably subconscious, but still.

Derek spoke quietly into Spencer's ear, "You're incredible."

He could feel Spencer's smile as he murmured into Derek's shoulder, "Yeah. I know."

"Cocky bastard," Derek replied into Spencer's hair. He smelled like vanilla—rich vanilla on a summer day right off of the spring orchid. That and sweat and passion and hope and _Spencer_.

"Strange coincidence," chuckling into Derek's neck, Spencer pushed him away gently, "Now let's Tango."

The next day arrived and Derek found his hand placed at the small of Spencer's back at their second rehearsal. They'd mastered the flicked leg—which took a solid hour, three water bottles, and fifteen sexy glares served up by Spencer himself. There was a small lift required that the two were thoroughly avoiding, but other than that, they could handle the swift movements required without the dancers getting their legs tangled and ending up in a frustrated heap on the floor. That only happened twice.

While the little leg pops were a bit difficult to master, there was this little heir to the dance that Derek was just missing completely. He could do all of the moves, albeit a little confusedly at first, but it didn't look like a tango. And that bothered Spencer to no end.

After butchering the opening measure for the sixth time in a row, Spencer pulled him aside and stopped the music. Spencer placed his hands into the pockets of his baggy sweatpants. Today, in a crimson version of the navy v-neck from yesterday, Derek could see that these little shirts were a conscious decision. They had to be. The shirts were so simple—I mean it was jersey dammit—but the way he wore them... the man's plotting something, Derek swears by it. The baggy sweatpants on the other hand could use some work. Just a little tighter would be nice. Or a lot tighter. Or no pants. Yes, no pants was a great idea.

Snapping his fingers in front of Derek's face, he brought him back to Earth, "Hey, Jolly Green, you hear a word I just said?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, "You were talking?"

"Yes, I was _talking_! I was _talking_ about your walk up and first two measures!" Spencer waved his hands around enthusiastically, "You're too disconnected from me. You have the steps, but man, there's no passion. You're snapping your hips, but you're not _snapping_ them! We're tangoing, but we're not _Tangoing_, you know?"

Derek gave him a blank look.

Spencer rubbed his temples, "I'm not making a lick of sense, am I?"

Derek blinked, "No, you're not."

"Let's just…" Spencer clapped his hands together and took a deep breath, "Come here."

Derek took two steps forward.

Spencer let out a laugh at the shuffling movement and held a hand out to Derek, "Closer, Derek. Here."

Moving to make a three bible distance between the two, Derek felt Spencer take his hand. He looked up at Spencer and watched as he let out a small, contented smile. Their fingers slotted together and Spencer took the other hand, interlocking it as well. His hands were soft. Firm, but soft, if that makes any sense.

"We're lovers." Spencer spoke calmly, "You took me to the prom, and hated your tie, and complained when our mothers took a billion pictures of us. I told you I loved you two months ago and you didn't respond until a week later, because what you were feeling scared you. Now, it doesn't. You say it every day. I tutor you in Math, you pick me up from school, and every Friday we watch stupid slasher movies in your living room while your sisters make kissy noises as they pass the couch. The sex is amazing, but we waited. We waited a long time, and when we finally did it, we wondered why we hadn't started sooner. But, we have issues—we fight. We fight about little things… big things… lots of things in between, but we never fall asleep angry at one another. We won't allow it. So, when I ask you to prom—"

"Whoa, whoa," Derek interjected, "_I_ ask _you_."

Spencer laughed, "Fine, you ask me to prom."

Derek smiled fondly, "There you go."

Spencer shook his head and continued, "I say yes, and we go, and you decide to tease me because you're bored and you like my reaction to annoyance. I know you don't mean a word you say, and it barely even stings until some girl walks by and you decide to dance one song with her. I'm furious at you. I'm overprotective, territorial, very testy. Somebody had the fucking nerve to dance with my man, and now I'm nearly unreasonable. You got what you wanted. I'm pissed at you. Now, seduce me back into your arms, Derek. Make me so lost in desire that I forgive you immediately. Don't just dance with me. Tango."

"You made up that whole backstory just for me?" Derek said with a teasing glint in his eye.

Spencer replied, "Yeah."

Derek smiled fondly, "Thanks."

Spencer squeezed his hand, "No problem."

Derek winked, "Now, how awesome was the sex again?"

Spencer ran his thumb against the back of Derek's hand, "Let's just say you're not breaking up with me any time soon. I've got a couple of tricks up my sleeve."

"And me?" Derek asked.

Spencer shrugged, "You were a virgin. I taught you well."

"What? No fair!" Derek laughed and tugged on Spencer's hand, "This backstory is seriously slanted towards you."

Spencer responded easily, "Well, I want you to show the crowd what you can do. Seduce me; seduce them as well."

"Anybody ever tell you you're a genius?"

Spencer grinned, "You have no idea."

* * *

"Now, Spencer, you're sure you want to do this?" Derek spoke into the back of Spencer's neck as he gripped the dip of Spencer's waist. They stood very close. Spencer stood in front of Derek, barefoot on the hardwood with his woodsy vanilla scented hair pressed into Derek's face. He looked at Derek through the mirror on that Saturday afternoon and said sternly, "Yes. I've never been lifted before… if you drop me… I will kill you."

Derek scoffed, "I'm not going to drop you. Please, what are you, eighty pounds soaking wet?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, "For your information, I'm 147."

Derek glanced down at Spencer's body, "I don't see it. Where is this 147?"

"My ass," Spencer hissed, "Now, lift me before I lose my faith in you."

Derek chuckled, "I've lifted you and a half on a bad day, man. Bring it."

Spencer gave him the count, "On eight. Five, six, seven—aughh!"

Derek pulled Spencer off of the ground and lifted him as high as his arms were able before holding him to the side, allowing Spencer to lift one leg high and hold it parallel to his head for a few moments, and letting him down gently. Spencer's feet hit the ground softly and barely made a sound as he clutched his chest and let out a big breath, "Oh! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."

Laughing, Derek pulled him close, "Aww, there we go. Good job."

Spencer whimpered, eyes plastered to the ground, "That was really high up."

Derek rubbed calming circles into his back, "I've got you, Spence. I won't ever drop you. But, if it makes you feel better, we can do without the lifts—"

Spencer hissed, "Derek Hough always does lifts in his Argentine Tangoes! He scores higher than me in it every single time and for that, I hate his guts. You're lifting me, the end."

Derek chuckled, "Whoa, do we have a little trouble in Alpha Male Paradise?"

Spencer pushed out of the hug gracefully, "No. I'm better than him. He just doesn't know it yet."

Derek added, "Your arrogance is startlingly refreshing."

Spencer blushed and plastered himself to Derek's side, "Five, six, seven, eight."

* * *

Derek yawned as he rose a half hour later, scratching his head and pushing the sheets away hesitantly. They were very warm today. Then again, they were very warm every time Derek rose in the morning, but that didn't make waking up that much easier. He shrugged off the memory of how easy it was to greet the morning beside Spencer, raging hangover or no raging hangover.

What was he about to do?

Oh, yeah. Bathroom.

Derek stood up, and turned on the TV at the end of his bed for background noise as he padded over to the in-room hotel bathroom in his socks and sweats. He yawned again as he closed the door and relieved himself. Finishing that, he washed his hands and grabbed his toothbrush out of the holder, putting it into his mouth. He rifled inside the mirror compartment until he found a half empty tube of toothpaste and popped open the cap. Derek squeezed some onto the brush and stuck it into his mouth again, opening the bathroom door and heading for his closet.

Hmm, clothes, clothes, clothes…

He grabbed a red tee shirt and a clean pair of black sweatpants, tossing them on the bed and scrubbing at his teeth. God, he loves this competition. There's no other way he could get away with wearing sweats every day. He shuddered at the thought of dancing in jeans, especially ballroom. Yikes.

Derek checked absently to see if the shirt was too wrinkled to wear, and after an assessment of two seconds, the answer was yes. He headed back to the closet after hearing his name from the television at the edge of the bed. He glanced back to it curiously. ESPN is on. There sat two interviewers he's sat beside before laughing loudly.

"Yes, it's true. Derek Morgan of the Chicago Bears is now a contestant on Dancing with the Stars!" a blonde man said.

The elder brunette beside him shrugged, "Well, that's nothing new. There was a player on a season or so ago. Jacoby Jones, wasn't it? He placed third."

The blonde added, "Yes, but, he wasn't dancing with a man."

The brunette paused, "Wait. Derek Morgan is dancing with a man? Is that even allowed?"

"It is now," he replied, "We don't know if he asked to dance with him or not, but those two are getting real close despite the circumstances. Too close if you ask me."

The brunette man sighed, "Well, knowing Derek Morgan, I wouldn't be surprised. After that whole scandal with Marcus Townsel, I wouldn't put it behind him. Just can't keep his hands off these men, can he?"

Derek grimaced. First of all, _Marcus_ kissed _him_. _He_ didn't kiss _Marcus_! And it was just a freaking peck at the winning touchdown of their first major game! Besides, they discounted the whole thing several times. Sure, they fucked around for a few months after the event, but no one knew that. Did they? They couldn't. The two players were very secretive about it. They'd only hooked up in Marcus's windowless den, and on occasion in the locker room's ball closet if running plays with each other got them so hot that they couldn't wait. But, no one knew about that. Derek's mom didn't even know about that, and she knew everything.

The blonde laughed, "They held hands after last week's dance. Held hands! What is he, his boyfriend?"

A picture popped up of the two of them receiving their scores. Lo and behold, their fingers were interlocked and Spencer's head was on his shoulders. Okay, this must be magic film, because that picture totally made it look like they were together. Derek might even venture to say committed. What was so funny about it was how fucking different the two men were! In the picture, it seemed exaggerated. They were so unalike. Derek was strongly built with determination in his eyes, skin brown and head cleanly shaved, he looked like he didn't take no tea for the fever. Spencer, on the other hand, was tall and thin, all lithe musculature, soft pale skin, and long curls—a fucking David statue carved from pure sexiness instead of marble. Not to mention, he held himself with so much confidence and self-assuredness, it was crazy (and in that _suit _with that goofy grin he had plastered on his face, eyes cast up toward Derek's? Yes. Derek wants this picture for his own). Yet, all things considered, they didn't look out of place at each other's sides. Their hands were interlocked—Derek's strong and dark, Spencer's sturdy and pink—and within their difference, it all just… fit.

The brunette shook his head, "Well, would you look at that. That's just disgusting. My children watch this show. I'd hate to have them seeing these two flaunting around every week."

The blonde added, "Apparently during last week's dance, they got very romantic."

The brunette rolled his eyes, "You mean very gay. Damned homosexuals, that's what they are."

Derek's lip curled. Asshole.

"The last thing we need is this on television. It's not even dancing. It's just an excuse to push their gay agenda on us. We don't want to see that," the blonde spoke, "This isn't the traditional ballroom that the viewers asked for, this is two men twirling around."

The brunette chuckled, "God, I wonder who the woman is when they pair dance. It's probably Morgan himself," he laughed, "Imagine that!"

"I barely can! Who would have guessed that the NFL's most recent MVP would become a dancing queen? No one, I'll tell you that. I don't understand it. He works so hard in a respectable sport to… what, frolic around like a fairy with that flowery excuse of a man that he's probably having an affair with? I mean, it's a mess. It's a trashy mess," said the reporter.

The brunette joked, "That man is quite girly looking, isn't he?"

The blonde laughed, "Hell, with a couple of drinks in me, he'd look like my wife!"

The brunette reporter cackled, "Ah, it's funny because it's probably true. I mean, look at that hair! Does he curl it like that?"

"You know what, those are natural curls!" Derek hissed and picked up the remote, turning the television off. Staring at the little thing in his hand, he pitched it forward across the room. As it hit the wall, the back of it came flying off with a crack! The batteries flew out and Derek sucked in a breath, yelling out, "Fuck you, ESPN!"

It was true.

ESPN could well and truly go fuck itself for all Derek knew. Derek wanted to dance, and he knew that it was no big deal when Jacoby Fucking Jones went for it and made it to the finale. But, Derek dances with a man, and all of a sudden, he's a flaming homosexual flailing around like a fairy. Really, ESPN? Really?

Either way, who cares if Derek is a flaming homosexual?! It's none of their business anyway who he's fucking, be it man or woman or other! For their information, Spencer and Derek are incredible dancers, and when they dance together, there's magic. It's like their hands were made to fit in each other's and their steps were crafted to match. So, when the cameras are off and the two dancers are away, no one has the fucking right to judge them whether Spencer and Derek are pounding each other until they black out or not! In every way imaginable, what they do is _no one's_ _business_ and as time goes on, it will continue to be no one's business.

They have no right to criticize Derek on his morals based on who he's dancing with. They have no right to say what is okay for children to watch. And, fuck if they have the right to tell Dr. Spencer Reid-the goddamn _Prince_ of Ballroom-what counts as ballroom and what falls under "fairy twirling". Besides. So what if Derek's having an affair with him? No one even knows of his abysmal crush on Spencer, and no one needs to know. Why? Because it's of no consequence to them. And they are in no way pushing a "gay agenda" by dancing together. They're two people. Who can Jive like it's in their bones. That's all.

This is bullshit.

And you know what?

Derek is pissed the fuck off.

But, you know what? That's press.

* * *

**A/N: Darn ESPN. Stay tuned next week, because boy, do things change for the better in M/R Land. Next Sunday is their Prom. And we all know what happens at Prom~ *eyebrow wiggle***

**Love,**

**Blue**

**P.S. Nothing happened on my prom though. During the slow dances, my date was conquering a persistent bowel movement. During the after-prom, I was the "purse watcher". And during the after-after-prom, we went to my friend's house and I fell asleep cuddling one of my female buddies. Pictures were taken and it ended up on Facebook. Sorry Norah. I had a bad night, and you were very soft. **

**I did succeed in kicking Creepy Patrick off of the couch though, and made me feel a little better.**


	7. You Can't Teach Passion

**A/N: It's about to get pretty hot up in here, up in here.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER SEVEN: You Can't Teach Passion

"So…" Derek spoke as the two men sat quietly in the make-up room. Spencer scowled over at him in response. Dozens of people bustled around them and the other stars and dancers, spraying and talking and painting away. Derek stole a look over at Spencer and tried not to laugh as a woman nodding into headphones blasting ska music began to strong arm some gel into his hair to tame down his wild, loose curls. Spencer had a worried look on his face as she did so. He gnawed on his lower lip and she pulled out a thinly toothed comb. Spencer's eyes widened as she brought it toward him and flinched as she dragged it through his stubborn locks.

Derek leaned back in his chair. The make-up lady was already finished with him, it was Spencer who apparently needed most of the work. Fucking diva.

Spencer whimpered as the lady forced her way through Spencer's hair with the styling comb and Derek said simply, "If you loved your hair every day, it wouldn't be such an issue."

The dancer hissed back, "Yeah, and you'd know so much about that, _baldy_."

"Hey. I gotta maintain this too. Besides, bald is beautiful, man. Gives you a nice smooth surface to push down on," Derek replied with a wink.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows confusedly, "What do you mean 'push down on'?"

"You know, man," Derek laughed out and leaned over to whisper to him slyly, "Giving head."

Spencer's brows furrowed deeper, "Why would you give me your head? I don't understand what I would want with it."

Derek tufted, "You're so sheltered. It's adorable."

Spencer mumbled, "I'm not sheltered. I'm just… a tad slow with up-and-coming culture."

Derek replied blandly, "Dude, RunDMC did a song about it when I was in college. This is anything but up-and-coming culture."

Spencer folded his arms and winced as the woman parted his hair, "I don't even know who DMC is, nevermind what he's running from."

"Wow, kid. Come here," Derek rolled his eyes and leaned closer, whispering after looking around a bit to make sure no one was paying attention, "I'm talking about playing the human flute, _brah_. The 'Face In My Pants' dance."

"Oh." Spencer murmured in the loud room and suddenly slammed his hand over his mouth as his eyes widened and he understood the concept, "_Oh!_"

Derek chuckled.

Spencer's face started to fill with color as he breathed, "Oh, my God… I've never even thought of that before. Not with… you know," his hand made a fluid arc over Derek's bald head, "one of those."

Derek winked slyly, "And how does it sound?"

Spencer got quiet as he blushed harder and looked away from him.

Derek snickered with glee, "Answer me, kid."

Spencer pushed his hand out until his palm covered Derek's face, pushing his partner as far away from him as he could.

Derek added, "Ooh, feisty. I like it."

"You know what?" Spencer's cheeks neared pink as he hissed back, "Why do I even talk to you? I ask myself this every day. You're so damned vulgar and you've assumed making me uncomfortable as your life's mission."

"_T__hat_ good, huh?" Derek laughed.

Spencer leaned over and pointed in warning, "You're a little… devil. That's what you are. You need to be sent away. Immediately."

Derek ran his hand over his smooth head, winking at Spencer, "Hell don't want me, baby. Where would I go?"

Spencer paused and then reached over the seat to smack Derek any place he could reach without upsetting the hair stylist.

Derek whispered under his breath between hits as Spencer unleashed several repeated smacks to his side as he started again, "You know—if you're—_ow!_—if you shave, the beard feels—_fuck...__that one hurt!_—it feels real nice prickly against your—"

Spencer threatened him with a glare as the hair dresser pulled him gently back into the seat while changing the song on her iPod.

Derek leaned back in his chair, "Now you're thinking about it, and with that, I am satisfied."

Spencer muttered under his breath as the loud headphone-wearing hair dresser brushed the back of Spencer's hair in place through his squirming, "Just wait until we're alone."

"I'll be counting the minutes," Derek teased.

Spencer glared over at him, "I've never met one so excited to meet his imminent death."

Derek added with a barking laugh, "Look at your little grimace. You're trying so hard to be intimidating. It's so cute."

Spencer folded his arms, barking back against the hair spray floating around his head, "One day, I'm going to get you when you least expect it. I'll make it look like a damned accident too, I swear to God."

Derek grinned, "I'm sure you will."

As the make-up lady finished Spencer's hair, she took out the headphones and patted his shoulder to tell him he was all ready to go. He looked into the mirror with amusement, "Huh. Well, this style's new."

His hair was parted on the right and combed back just enough to look polished and well-to-do. The rest of his curls were no longer curls. They were brushed down and hitting the back of his neck easily. He looked way more dressed up than he did in his suit last week. Maybe it's because he's in a tux. It's probably the tux _combined_ with the hair that gives off that effect. No, no. It's the tux. The hair is just a side note. Either way, Kid looked fantastic. Thus, Derek had to slam him.

Derek chuckled as he got out of the chair, "You look like a damned Disney prince."

Spencer perked up, nearly forgetting their previous impasse, "Oh, which one? Naveen or Married Flynn Rider?"

Derek continued away out of the make-up room and Spencer followed, striding with him into the land of the crowded hallways, "Neither. You need your own story—you know what? I got it! You're that gay prince that Pixar keeps saying they'll make but never honestly considered creating."

"I'm _not_ going to be an animation reject, I'll tell you that right now." Spencer huffed and folded his arms, "I'm voting myself Prince Eric. He's the hottest."

Derek stopped and looked at him, "Wait, which one is he again?"

"The Little Mermaid's husband," Spencer replied, rolling his eyes, "Duh."

Derek quirked his eyebrows, giving it time to process, "Oh, the brunette?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah."

Derek continued walking, "He fucked a fish girl. That takes a few points away for me."

Spencer growled, "It was true love, Derek. Let it go."

Derek added, "That's all well and good, but come on! She had a tail. And then she didn't. And then there were kids. This is elementary, my dear Watson."

Spencer reiterated, "Let. It. Go."

Derek cocked his head to the side, "She grew a vagina overnight, I mean, _dude_. I wouldn't trust the shit out of that. Spell or no spell, man, you have to admit that a normal guy would be at least a little freaked out by a magical cooch."

Spencer slapped his hand against his own forehead, "Derek. Please. At this point, I think you're contradicting me for the sake of argument."

"Damn right I'm contradicting you for the sake of argument," Derek replied as the approached the Red Room, "You're my favorite banter buddy, man. You're the only person I know beside my mom who could verbally kick my ass. And I don't argue with my mom out of respect."

Spencer replied, "Why don't you respect _me_ enough not to argue with me? I'm your instructor. That makes me like two steps below your mom."

Derek shrugged, "If you didn't change my diapers, you have to earn it. That's just how it is. Now, trust and believe, you have earned it in full. With interest. But, you're just so damned easy to piss off. Sometimes, I can't help myself."

Spencer argued as he opened the door to the Red Room, "I'm not easy to piss off! Take that back, dick!"

Derek chuckled.

* * *

The duo walked down the steps together the same way they did last week, minus the little quirk of attitude they had last time. They waved to the crowd, smiling with their chins raised. Spencer kept his eyes trained forward and Derek descended respectfully behind him, hand on the small of his back as their names were called.

Clearing the steps, they stood beside a glittery Penelope whom greeted Derek with a hug after the crowd cheered for them. She asked how he was doing and hung off of his arm as they headed back up the steps. Derek replied, "I'm doing good. What about you, Baby Girl?"

She grinned, "Incredible! Notice anything different about me?!"

Derek looked her over and furrowed his eyebrows, "No…"

Penelope rolled her eyes and pointed to her hair, "I'm a redhead now."

"Oh," Derek said quietly, "I thought you meant other than that…"

She sighed, "You didn't notice, did you?"

Derek paused and his voice went up in pitch a bit as he lied, "Yeah. Yeah, I noticed."

Penelope glared at him.

Derek wrapped an arm around her, "I'm sorry, Mama. You are just so beautiful that my mind stops for a moment and I didn't have time to factor in the change."

Penelope eased up on him, "Nice save."

Derek pumped his fist, "Yes!"

Penelope glanced around Derek, "...holy crap, is... is he okay?"

Derek turned around to see Spencer standing in front of the wall, staring at it with glassy eyes. His back was ramrod straight and he didn't move an inch. He just stared at the wall as if it was the only thing in the room. No, no, no. Bad. Derek spoke up, "Whoa. Okay, I've got to take care of this." Spencer's head tipped forward and his forehead landed on the wall with a thunk. Derek hurried past the dancers and stars to his partner. He tapped at Spencer's shoulder, "Hey... kid, you alright?"

"Oh, God," Spencer mumbled, "I'm freaking out right now. Like I'm... I'm _really_ fucking freaking out."

Derek asked worriedly, "What? Why? What happened?"

The dancer didn't speak. Thankfully, his arm was being pulled in the opposite direction from the dancers/stars couch and Derek had to make a graceful, but hurried leave. Without asking where they were headed, Derek followed as Spencer dragged him along down a half flight of stairs into a decently sized storage room filled with cords, tapes, and giant hard drives. It was kind of dark in there, but after Spencer clicked on a dusty lamp, the room brightened up a bit.

Spencer turned to Derek before he even got to ask and said through a tightened jaw, "I don't think I can do the lift."

Derek folded his arms and looked over to his coiffed dance partner, "What do you mean_ you can't do the lift_? We've done it a thousand times."

Spencer pressed his fingertips to his temples and complained, "Not in front of an audience! What if I fall, or I miss a step, or my pants rip, or the ground opens up and swallows me into a cataclysmic rift."

"Hey, hey, hey! Dude," Derek walked over and grabbed Spencer's shoulders, "Chill."

Spencer took in several curt breaths, "I don't think I can. I can't. I can't do it. I can't do the lift, Derek. I can't do it."

Derek moved his hands to kneed gently at the sides of Spencer's long neck in a soothing, circular motion, "You can. I've seen it. And you do an amazing job."

Spencer whimpered and leaned his head against Derek's shoulder, "But, it's not _perfect_. I've only been doing it for a few days, and it's going to look super faggy in this tux."

Derek added, feeling his shoulder grow damp, "Man, _nothing's_ perfect, but your dancing gets pretty damned close. You know what they call you, Spencer?"

Spencer sniffed around a poorly concealed sob, "What?"

Derek wrapped his arms around him and said into his partner's hair, "The Prince of Ballroom."

Spencer let out a watery laugh, "You're lying."

Derek chuckled, "Google doesn't lie."

"You Googled me?" Spencer's arms snaked around Derek's waist to hug him back, "Dude, you're so full of it."

Derek nodded, "Spencer, I swear to God, I'm not kidding. I'll pull it up on my phone. Wanna see?"

Spencer laughed harder and sniffed again, wiping lazily at his face, "No! I don't want to see it."

"That's because you believe me, you pompous piece of shit," Derek joked before rubbing the dancer's back lightly, "You know what the Prince would do in this situation?"

Spencer asked, "What?"

Derek nudged the side of his face with his chin, "He'd run out on that stage with me and do that girly lift like a motherfucking champ. He may not do it perfectly, yeah, but he'd do it to the best of his ability and it would look incredible." Derek finished before adding quickly, "And the crowd would bow to his Excellency."

Spencer leaned back with a wet face and pushed lazily at Derek's shoulder, "No, they wouldn't."

Derek reached up and wiped his cheeks dry with a gentle thumb, "Yes, Spencer. And if they don't, I will."

Spencer raised his hand to hold onto the one Derek placed on the side of his face, "You will?"

Derek nodded, "In a heartbeat. Why? Do you dare me? I'll do it in front of everybody, I swear. You just have to do the lift."

Spencer laughed.

Derek shrugged, "Man, that's the deal. Do the lift, and I will kneel before you in front of America."

Spencer looked up at Derek with a grin, "You can't be serious."

"It's not every day you have a Superbowl MVP bowing to you in front of a national audience," Derek replied, "I'd take the bait if I were you."

Spencer asked, "Can we just... rehearse it a couple more times? Just to be safe?"

Derek patted his shoulder, "Of course."

Spencer moved out of Derek's embrace and plugged his iPod into a loading dock in one of the big, dusty drives, clicking on the song, "We're the fifth couple. We've got forty minutes. Remember to lean on your left foot and straighten your back."

The song began and Derek walked as far as he could from Spencer before the first measure started and they melded into their characters, Derek as the daydreaming lover and Spencer as the angry date. As the violins began, Derek walked up to Spencer. The two shifted into an awkward high school slow dance, while Derek's eye kept catching onto another woman (played by a gigantic, dusty hard drive). Spencer's character noticed and grabbed Derek's face, moving his line of vision to Spencer and Spencer alone. Derek nearly laughed. Spencer's face was frozen in that angered pout.

Ne-yo began, "_It's just the cutest thing when you get to fussing, cussing_."

Derek started on his left foot and Spencer followed his movement, dancing him back a few steps before grabbing Spencer's hips stepping him twice in a crisp, clean motion.

"_Yelling and throwing things, I just want to eat you up_." Ne-yo finished.

The two melded into a sharp stance and with a raise and flick of his wrist, he guided Spencer into a strong turn and two-step.

"_I don't mean no disrespect when I start staring_…"

Then, as the next line peaked, Derek and Spencer touched each other's faces, held eye contact, and lowered their stance in a slow, coupled lunge. The two got lower and lower to the floor of the dusty security room, eyes locked in a sharp, meaningful stare.

"_Knowing that it makes you madder_…"

Soon, Spencer slipped from Derek's arms and started to storm off, unbuttoning his own jacket.

"_I'm sorry, but seeing you mad is so sexy, yeah_."

Derek ran over and grabbed onto Spencer's hand before he could remove it, guiding him back into his chest for a quick double leg flick. Spencer pushed his hand to Derek's chest and walked him a few steps back in the other direction.

"_Could it be the little wrinkle over your nose? When you make your angry face_…"

Spencer grimaced at Derek and the man let out a tendu and raised his arms in Spencer's in a four-count step, dancing around him in a strong, fluid stance.

"_That makes me want to just take off all your clothes_…"

Derek spun Spencer around and divested him of his jacket, tossing it to the side.

"_And sex you all over the place, yeah_…"

As Spencer's back was to him, Derek used that opportunity to reach around the dancer and run his hands searching his hands along his stable chest in five different grasps.

"_Could it be the little way_…"

Spencer pushed away from Derek with an angered grimace before being pulled back.

"_You storm around, that makes me want to tear you down_."

And, here came the lift. Derek grabbed Spencer by his side as he walked off and raised him on his left side. Spencer's leg lifted and he turned quickly in Derek's arms to pull himself into a bridal style hold, arms around Derek's neck as he stroked the side of his partner's face. Perfect.

"_Baby, I ain't sure. But, one thing that I do know is_…"

Spencer was released slowly to his feet and the two met in the middle once more for a two-step tango and a double spin, Derek's hand landing high on Spencer's thigh as he pulled it up his leg. He was getting tired of twirling, but the song's passion kept him into it big time.

"_Every time you scream at me…"_

Inside the waltz, Spencer leaned forward and hissed at him as he wrenched himself from Derek's arms, heading away with his back to his partner.

"_I wanna kiss you_…"

Derek grabbed his hand and twirled him back in. Spencer landed closer than he ever did before with his hand pressing into Derek's chest, but it was probably due to the cramped room. No matter, the moves were all the same. Not much has changed in the format of the dance. All it did was up the passion.

"_Baby, when you put your hands on me_…"

Spencer pulled his hands free, placed them on Derek's chest and pushed him away as violently as he could.

"_I want to touch you_…"

Derek grabbed the outstretched hands and performed a practiced swivel and a complicated five-step. There was a quirk in Spencer's eyebrow as he did. This would usually be the place where Spencer congratulates him, or pats him on the back, but seeing as they were hitting a stride, he chose not to.

"_When we get to arguing_…"

Spencer wrenched his hands from his once more and pointed at him in anger, seemingly surprised when Derek came back at him with a pointed finger of his own.

"_Just gotta kiss you, baby_."

Derek brought Spencer close and prepared to press a chaste kiss to Spencer's cheek, but then Spencer moved his head a fraction too much to the left and then oops. This wasn't planned. It so wasn't planned. This right here, was so totally not planned. But, it happened.

Their lips collided.

Whoa... shit.

Now, any man with a brain in Derek's situation, would move away and continue with the dance as if it didn't even happen, but by then, Spencer's hands raised to cup the sides of his face and—holy Jesus. Derek was kissing him. He couldn't help it. Spencer's lips were so warm and soft, like melted butter against his skin, and a moment barely passed before Spencer started kissing him back tentatively with passion building below it. Wow. Kid's not half bad. Spencer inched closer and their chests touched as their lips started to meld together. How did this happen? Derek doesn't know, but he's not looking a gift horse in the mouth, no thank you. Their characters broke in a gazillion pieces around them as Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer's body in a way he always wished he could, but never did. Spencer was trembling so nervously, and Derek soothed him with soft caresses up his back. The dancer whimpered and leaned up on his toes, standing taller than Derek as he responded to it, running his shaking hands over to Derek's shoulders and sliding them down to his chest. Derek turned his head to the side to deepen the angle and Spencer let out a quiet moan against his lips. He slid his hands back up Derek's chest and wrapped his arms around his neck, falling into his partner's body. Derek nudged gently at Spencer's lips and the dancer's mouth opened lightly against his as the music continued to play in the background.

Derek couldn't hear anything but his blood pounding in his veins. He couldn't feel anything except Spencer's lips and hands on him. Everything went gray and they were the only things in the universe in Technicolor. This kiss was a damned fairy tale. That should be weird, but… it wasn't. It was perfect.

Still kissing as passionately as they could, Derek placed one hand at the back of Spencer's neck before dipping him romantically. Spencer gave a soft chuckle against his lips and tightened his arms around Derek's shoulders to kiss him harder. Suddenly, Spencer gasped and pressed his hand to Derek's chest, pushing him at arms-length before staring at him with wide eyes and kiss reddened lips.

Derek laughed breathlessly, "Uh oh."

"…you're telling me," Spencer blinked, slowly agreeing, "Your technique could use some serious work."

Derek panted, wiping a line of spit from his chin, "Hey, I have on good authority that I'm a pretty decent—"

"I meant your _Tango_, not…" Spencer shook his head nervously, sliding his hand over his ear where he would usually brush his hair, "Oh, no, no. That's—_ahem_—that's uh… you have that covered."

Derek nodded easily and asked breathlessly, "Thank you. But... I gotta ask. Did you see that surprise ending coming or—"

Spencer sputtered, "No! Are you kidding? I thought you did!"

Derek shook his head, "Dude, I'm not nearly that clever."

Spencer shrugged, "You very well could be."

"Well, that's bullshit. Someone had to know what was going on. I mean, we were _dancing_ and then we…" Derek took a deep breath, "…we just started _making out_."

Spencer pressed a hand to the side of his own face, closing his eyes and whispering, "Don't say it out loud!"

Derek deadpanned, "Oh, I'm so sorry. You just tripped and fell and I caught you with my lips. Then you stabilized yourself by shoving your tongue in my mouth. Is that put better?"

Spencer pointed a finger at Derek, "I did not _shove_ my tongue in your mouth! And… if it did manage to slip in there, it wasn't my fault! You had your gigantic arms around me and shit. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Stand there like a rag doll?! Jeez! Why'd you even hold me like that in the first place?!"

Derek replied, "You were shivering."

Spencer paused and looked up at his dance partner, "...I was?"

"Yeah," Derek added, "It was cute."

Spencer smiled a bit and hung his head, hiding it as he played with his fingers absentmindedly, "I'm a grown man. I'm not cute…"

As Spencer lowered his head, a few curls escaped his styled 'do. Derek took a step forward. At that, Spencer's head snapped up, locking eyes with him. Derek reached across the short space and pushed the lock of hair behind his ear for him, smoothing out the side of the style with his hand. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a bobby pin he stole from the make-up counter, securing the curl so that it doesn't fall loose again.

During the whole ordeal, Spencer was watching him with steady eyes. Derek didn't remove his hand and instead slid it down his face gently as a whisper, lifting up his chin.

Spencer wrestled back his smile.

Derek said simply, "Wanna bet?"

Spencer bit his lip and murmured, "Stop looking at me like that."

Derek challenged, "I'll look at you any way I damn well please."

Spencer countered, face reddening by the second, "I'm your instructor, Derek. This is inappropriate. And I mean like highly, highly, _highly_ inappropriate."

Derek challenged, "So?"

"You're making this very difficult," Spencer added pointedly.

Derek asked, "Why is it difficult? All you have to do is push me away. Tell me I'm gross, or you're not interested. I'll back off."

Spencer replied, "I could do that. It would make things a lot easier, but fact of the matter is none of that is… true."

Derek let out a huge smile, "So, you _are_ interested."

Spencer sighed, pulling Derek's hand off of his face, "What difference does it make? We're not supposed to do this."

"Oh, yeah?" Derek supplied, "What about Mark Ballas and Sabrina Bryan?"

Spencer grimaced, "Don't you dare throw Mark Ballas and Sabrina Bryan at me."

Derek began to laugh, "Fine, fine. I won't."

Spencer folded his arms, "Good. Besides, your argument is totally invalid. Those two waited until they were out of the competition so that there wasn't a conflict of interest."

Derek scoffed, "Are you kidding me? There's always been a conflict of interest between us. If that kiss was anything to gauge from... we are really into each other."

Spencer blinked, skin flushing under Derek's words, "Well... I... we're not that..."

Derek challenged him with his eyes.

Spencer gulped, "Fine. Whatever. I'm insanely attracted to you, so what? Doesn't change anything."

Derek whispered, "_Mark and Sabrina_…"

There was a gentle buzzing sound in the distance and Spencer reached over a large hard drive for his jacket, pilfering inside the breast pocket. Spencer pointed a warning finger at him and pulled his phone out, sucking his teeth dispassionately as he scanned the caller ID, "Shit. It's a Greg, the PA."

Derek growled, "Fucking _Greg_..."

"Hello," Spencer answered his phone, leaning against the racks in his pristine tuxedo. The dim light of the iPod illuminated his features in such a hauntingly dark way that made him look like a modern day Dorian Gray or Mr. Darcy or something. He was perfect. Derek just wanted to take a picture. You know what? Fuck it. Derek fished his phone out of his back pocket and unlocked it, fiddling until he found the camera. Spencer was still chatting away with the PA as he glanced in Derek's direction. Derek pretended to press random buttons, making it look like he was sending a text message. Spencer sighed and gestured to his own phone. Derek made a funny face and Spencer smiled. Right before he rolled his eyes, Derek snapped the picture. His shutter sound was on silent, thank God, so Spencer wasn't the wiser, but it still made him feel like a ninja. Derek did a tiny ninja dance to celebrate. It was very small and all in his mind.

Spencer hung up the phone and sprinted to the iPod jack, pulling it away and shutting off the sound, "We're on in two more dances, man, we gotta go."

Derek asked, "That quickly?"

"Yeah," Spencer replied, tugging on his jacket as he headed to the door.

Derek stopped him with a hand over his.

Spencer paused and looked up at Derek, "What?"

"We're going to talk about what just happened, correct?"

Spencer smiled fondly and pressed a palm to Derek's cheek, "Do we have to?"

"Yes," Derek smiled back, leaning into the warm, long fingered hand.

"Ahh, fine. You win. But, wait." Spencer sighed, pulling Derek against the door so that his back was pressed against it and he was pinned between Spencer's, jacket-covered, thin arms.

Derek wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously, "Not that I'm complaining, but… why am I against the door?"

Spencer reached up, grabbed Derek by the back of the head and pulled their lips into a soft, melodious kiss. Derek's hands snuck around to Spencer's hips as he melted into the embrace, gripping them as Spencer's hands slid down his shoulders. After a moment, Spencer turned his head, deepening the kiss with a light nip of his teeth against Derek's lower lip. Derek leaned forward and dipped into Spencer's lithe body, and in response, Spencer's fingers trailed up Derek's neck until they latched onto his strong jawline. They pressed closer and closer together until their bodies were fused from thigh to chest, Spencer's arms moved once more to be held around his neck and Derek's were holding him close. The two just stayed still like that for a moment, holding each other with their lips pressed together, soaking in the feeling of their kiss, reveling in how good it was to just touch.

Patting Derek's chest and backing out with a blushing face, Spencer said simply, "I figured that… if we were going to have an awkward talk, we should _really_ have something to talk about."

Derek stared wordlessly after him as Spencer maneuvered around him and out of the door, blinking quickly. His mom was right. He needed to marry this man.

* * *

Derek had never danced with this much fire and passion and lust in his entire life, up to and including his bar-hopping years in Evanston. He Tangoed with Spencer so hard, that the dancer held deep blush during the entire ordeal. Derek now understands what Spencer was talking about when he said Derek wasn't Tangoing. The dance was essentially a list of moves, executed to perfection, and Derek strove for that. Now, that may even be required of a simple tango, but, that wouldn't be an _Argentine_ _Tango_. The past week's rehearsals—what Derek was giving before—was not an accurate perception of the _Argentine Tango_, it was a fancy, passionless ballroom. But, boy, does he have passion now.

To get to the heart of the dance, he needed to truly feel it in his core. He needed to dance as if the person he was with was not only intoxicating in form, but sensual in style and grace and aura—as a whole. While Derek was attracted to Spencer previously, he hadn't _experienced_ him. He'd wished and daydreamed, but he hadn't felt the dancer's body pressed against him in a kiss wrapped in pure, unadulterated heat. He hadn't held him and caressed him and breathed him in. He hadn't felt _Spencer_ and known his body in ways that were all new and exciting.

Derek pulled him across the floor, snapped him close, and stared into his soul. He seduced Spencer with his vibe, dragged him in with his body, fucked him over the hardwood with his eyes, and Spencer took it all as greedily as he could. The dancer responded with a sharpness to his own movements. They were crisp, they were neat, they were so _right_.

Above all, Spencer executed the lift and nailed the flourish in a way that bitchslapped the whole audience from clapping to a still quietness so palpable that one could cut with a knife. He could feel them asking themselves, "Whoa, did he just nail that girly-ass lift?" The answer was "yes". He did it. As they continued with the dance, Spencer tried to hide his smile by biting his lips. He was proud of himself. He should be. Dude just shattered every single ballroom gender role _to ever_ _gender role_. Men lift; they don't get lifted, and they damn sure don't get lifted by other men. But, Spencer handled it with such grace and simplicity, that the audience was forced into submission. They were so totally mentally bowing to the Prince.

Derek and Spencer approached the spot in the dance that they stopped at in the dusty equipment room, and the two edged shyly around it, sending knowing glances at each other as they finished the dance three measures later. The two ended crashing together on center stage. Derek pulls Spencer into an embrace and Spencer melts into it, his palms soft against Derek's suit.

Then, it got quiet.

Really quiet.

Spencer breathed against his chest hesitantly when, suddenly, there was a loud whoop from a single audience member.

"Didn't I tell you to tango with that white boy?! Yeah, 43! I see you, baby! Get it!" Derek's friend Marcus called out loudly. Wow. Ratchetness at its finest. There was a single clapping sound in the room. Then two more. Before they knew it, the audience suddenly erupted into applause as the lights dimmed and went back up, signifying the end of the performance. Derek breathed, "God, that was terrifying. I thought they weren't going to clap."

Spencer tugged Derek closer and tackled him into a neck hug, whispering, "Of course they were gonna! Where the heck did that crazy Tango come from?!"

Derek chuckled, pulling him over to the judges table and whispering back, "You."

The audience didn't quiet for a decent while. Even after they had arrived at the edge of the stage and stood beside the host. The host signaled to the crowd and they continued to scream. Spencer laughed at Derek's side. Derek looked over at him and decided that this was the moment.

He pulled Spencer's arm off from over his shoulders and bent down on one knee, flourishing his arms out in a stylistic bow. Spencer laughed harder and blushed, grabbing one of Derek's hands, trying to tug him up off of the floor, "I didn't expect you to actually bow!"

Derek winked and rose, "America saw that, man. You kick ass and now they all know it."

Spencer waved him off and Derek pulled him close again by his shoulder.

After several unsuccessful tries at calming the audience, the host screeched, "People, calm down, jeez!"

The audience let out a group laugh and quieted, giving the host time to breathe. He patted the men on the backs, "Holy crap, guys! I... wow. No words."

"I know, right?" Spencer smiled over at Derek, "He doesn't completely suck at the Tango after all."

The host laughed, "After that intro video, we thought he might never get it."

Spencer shrugged, "So did I!"

"Well, practice makes perfect," the host answered easily, gesturing to the judges' desk, "David. You seem to have something to say."

David Rossi was standing and pointing at Derek in an accusatory fashion, "Who gave you permission?"

Derek paused, "... sorry?"

David pointed, "Who gave you permission to go to Argentine, live and breathe the Tango for seven years, and then hit us with that?! There's simply no way you've only been doing that for a week. There's no way. I'm calling bull. He had the moves like clockwork the whole time, it was the _lust_ he had missing! The pure _sexual tension_ that was the Argentine Tango, and you can't make someone feel that. You can't teach passion. Or can you… Doc?"

The audience cheered in response and Spencer blushed red, hands flying up to cover his face.

David winked, "Have you two been naughty boys?"

Derek lied easily, "No. We've been the picture of innocence."

"Well, for a dance virgin, you have a very unconvincing pelvic thrust," David shook his head and sat with a smile, "Your attack points were crisp and even, there was a bit of struggle on a tendu, but I'm not even going to look at that. You're a football player. If you can point your toe like a prima this early in the competition, something's terribly wrong, but promise me you'll work on it. Altogether, you wowed us, and I'm convinced that you've been lying to us when you entered the competition."

Jennifer laughed, "You mean, he's like secretly a pro and the whole show is rigged?"

David nodded, "Exactly."

Jennifer took hold of the judging station, "The two of you have this incredible chemistry, and we've seen it grow and manifest since day one. It's just… wow. It's bigger than us, and I am such a strong supporter of you two. And, yeah, I admit to following the #TeamMoreid tag on Twitter."

The audience laughed once more.

"What, you two are cute! I ship it, okay? I can't be blamed," Jennifer joked, adding, "Now, I know you don't have it easy being the first same-sex team to ever exist on the show, and you're both handling it with so much professionalism. Like, for example, take Doc and that lift. I know that couldn't have been easy for you, re-learning every dance and doing moves no self-respecting man would be caught dead doing, nevermind doing them well. And Derek, you're Mr. Macho Man Football Player. Dancing with Doc must be a bit weird for you. We know that you're getting bad press from ESPN, SiriusXM, Sports Illustrated—which I think you modeled for last year, right?"

Derek winked as a response. Nothing more, just a wink and the word, "November."

Jennifer giggled and fanned herself, "Oh, trust me. I know."

Aaron Hotchner placed his hand on top of hers, "Jennifer, honey. The dance."

"Oh, right!" she added simply, "I loved it! Wonderful. Stylistic. David was right when he said 'professional'. This dance was just the essence of ballroom and it was such a good Tango so early in the season, that I challenge the other couples to do as well as you did on this. Congratulations. I see big things for you two."

The crowd clapped.

Aaron spoke, "Well, let's talk posture, Derek."

The crowd booed.

Aaron rolled his eyes and continued, "I've told you time and time again. Doc is your height if not taller than you, so you don't need to dip so far when gliding with him. Anticipate he'll meet you at eye level. This is the best place to have a partner. You have the instant eye contact, which is the key opportunity to make your dance a little more perfect every time. You can trust each other, and I see you do, but when you have that connection, it's even stronger."

David added with a laugh, "How strong do you want the connection, Aaron? It was strong as hell as it is! Any stronger and they'd be rolling around naked on the floor! This is a family show. I think their eye contact is fine."

Aaron shrugged and replied, "I never said it wasn't. I just asked Derek to correct his posture. This isn't a giraffe dancing with a cat. These are two giraffes, and one giraffe doesn't seem to know that the other giraffe's a giraffe. Is this making sense?"

Derek piped in, "Oh, I know Spencer's a giraffe, it's just weird."

Spencer remarked, "Derek's shorter, so he should be doing the effeminate moves, but his form is too strong for it. I'm taller, so it would make sense for me to dance the left, but I have enough training to know both sides. So, we're kind of… flailing a little."

Derek chuckled, "And you have a lady butt."

Spencer turned to Derek and hissed, "I do not have a lady butt!"

Derek snickered, "Yes, you do. Baby got back."

Spencer smacked Derek's arm and Derek clapped Spencer's shoulder just as hard. The dancer scrunched his face up, "Ow!"

Derek replied, "That's what your punk ass gets for hitting me."

Spencer answered with a smile, "I'll get you later."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "Ooh."

The audience laughed as Aaron finished, "Anyway. Giraffes and butts aside, this was a very well done dance. Not at all puerile in tactic, and it saddens me to hear what recent sports networks have been saying about you. This _is_ a sport, this _is_ hard work. It takes dedication, training, sweat and pain and it takes an even stronger man to do all of this with another man on national television. Especially in this day and age where homophobia and gender roles aren't becoming taboo quickly enough. I respect the two of you and all the work you're putting in—not _despite_, but _in face_ of your complex situation."

The host raised his hand, "Can I borrow your boys, judges?"

Jennifer stretched her hands before her, "No. My boys. Mine."

The host chuckled, "I'm sorry, but they have to hear their scores."

Jennifer thrust her hands along, "Fine, take my loves if you must."

The host directed the two of them toward the steps and Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, looking over at Derek with worry in his eyes as he whispered, "What were they talking about when they said bad press?"

Derek shrugged, "Just that. Agreeing to dance with you wasn't the best move for my image, and I knew it when I signed up. But, I don't care. I wanted to learn to dance, and have the experience, and meeting you didn't suck completely."

Spencer pulled his arm closer around him, "I didn't think the public eye would end up being so… closed minded. I didn't think it would be that bad."

Derek sighed, heading up the steps, "It is that bad. It's actually worse than the Marcus thing."

"How? You kissed a dude on a football field, this can't be worse than that." Spencer asked, walking quickly beside him as Derek's arm fell from his shoulders.

Derek laughed, "First of all, _he_ kissed _me_ okay? And it was in the heat of a win. I didn't hold his hand in public and dance around with him for three weeks and counting. If I was still in the game, this would be an instant career killer. Hell, if I were to quit, I would pull something like this before doing it. That's how undone this is in the ball community."

Spencer paused, walking calmly up the last three steps, "Wow. I never really understood what this is for you. What you're giving up."

Derek replied with a smile, "I believe in us. We can win."

Spencer smiled back quietly, ducking his head as they strode up to the female host at the top of the steps. She was clad in a long, beautiful fire truck red dress. It had sequins at the brassiere and widened at the hip. Something a girl would wear to a formal dance. The host grinned, "Hey, guys, how are you feeling about your prom after that heated little diddy there?"

"Pretty self-explanatory, don't you think," Derek said to her, winking suggestively.

Spencer started to laugh and nudged him, "Derek, could you please not?"

The host grinned and gave the camera an entertained look before asking them, "Well, do you two want to see your scores?"

Spencer nodded, folding his arms and standing close to Derek, "Lay it on us."

The television screen showed the three judges sitting with smiles on their faces. Alright. Good sign, good sign. Derek spared a glance at Spencer and bit his lip in nervousness. Aaron Hotchner raised his paddle.

"9!" the host said.

Spencer wiggled beside him. Beside Aaron, Jennifer raised her paddle with a sly grin on her face.

"10!" the host shouted, "The first 10 of the season!"

Derek pumped his fist in the air and Spencer held in a poorly concealed screech as he started to jump up and down. David smiled to the camera and raised his paddle.

"9!" the host said once more, "We can't believe it! One tens and two nines for Team Wild Card!"

Derek could barely hold in his grin and Spencer had just resorted to smacking Derek's arm over and over again, a giant beam on his face.

The host asked, "How do you guys feel about that score?"

Spencer started, "We're very humbled by the judges' decisions and—"

Derek interrupted, "Woo! We did awesome! We the baddest! Spence, ain't we the baddest?"

Spencer shrugged and gave in to the feeling, "We did do pretty incredibly."

"There we go! Inflate that head!" Derek said, grabbing onto Spencer's shoulders firmly and shaking them.

The host laughed and gestured to them, "Well, that evens out to a score of 28 out of 30! Tune in America to see great dancing and more after this commercial break."

The red light above the camera went off and Spencer tackled Derek into another hug, kissing his bald head enthusiastically before the two men walked over to the team couch on Cloud fucking Nine. They collapsed onto the material and openly accepted the cheers and jibes of awe coming from their costars. Spencer slapped hands, laughed, and joked along with his fellow dancers and much to their surprise, Derek Hough himself patted Spencer's back and said, "Good job. Your Tango was almost better than mine. Mainly because Derek Morgan was dancing the leading part, but, you know. The compliment's still there."

Spencer cocked his head to the side and smirked, "And, who got the first ten of the season?"

Hough laughed and winked, "Fine, fine. I'll get you next week my pretty. And your little guest star too!"

Emily hung off of his shoulder, "We're going to nail you guys on next week's 'Time of my Life' Challenge. Guaranteed."

Derek scoffed, "You're on."

* * *

The final dancers were Will and Peta, their arch nemeses. The two had a Viennese Waltz, and damn them if they didn't squeeze a "10" out of David. But, Jennifer and Aaron held their ground. Will had great posture and form, but his dance was a little weakened because he faded in and out of character while dancing with Peta. Penelope whispered to Derek that he had been staring over at the judges' desk repeatedly during the performance. Derek wondered if the country singer was worried about his score, but Penelope was nearly 100% positive that "Deep South" Will had a crush on Jennifer. It wouldn't be that outlandish an idea. Jennifer was a very pretty woman. But, she's also on the panel, deciding his fate. It's inappropriate.

Derek then paused his train of thought.

He's not really one to judge, seeing how his relationship with Spencer is steering out of the Platonic Lane and merging into the Sexual Frustration Station.

He stole a glance over at Spencer whom was looking stunning as can be in his tux, laughing and chatting like the handsome little fucker he is. A hand touched Derek's shoulder and he glanced backward at Penelope, whom was lounging beside him in a fluffy pink ball gown. Her red hair was done up with curls and a tiara—even her glasses were pink! She looked like she'd be the belle of any ball.

Penelope asked, "So… that was one fiery dance you and Doc did there."

Derek shrugged, "Well, you know. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

"And this man's _gotta_ _do_ his dance partner?" she giggled with an airy titter.

Derek rolled his eyes, "I'm not _doing_ Spencer."

"Okay, suppose for a second I believe you," she started, "The two of you still went God knows where for a half hour to practice getting up in each other's space in a place with no cameras."

Derek looked away with a simple retort, "Yeah. Doesn't mean anything happened. We rehearsed. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Take advantage of the time we have before the show?"

She raised her eyebrows.

Derek added, "What? We were in a dusty ass wire closet. It's not like we went to Upandi."

Penelope stared longer.

Derek looked both ways to see if anyone could hear them before leaning closer, "I can trust you, right?"

She replied, "You're my brother from another mother."

Derek walked around to the other side of the couch and said as quietly as he could, "Spencer and I went to the closet to rehearse the dance. He was scared to do the lift because he didn't think he'd be able to nail it. He spent his whole life dancing the strong male portion of the dance, and now he has to flourish all over the place as well as re-learn everything he knows. Not being perfect is finally getting to him."

Penelope gasped and held a hand to her mouth, "I had no clue! Oh, Derek, I'm so sorry. Is he okay?"

Derek nodded, "He's alright. It took a decently sized chill pill, but he finally calmed down."

She sighed, "Oh, thank goodness."

Derek added quietly as he could, "Plus, we totally made out in the wire closet. That might have contributed, I don't know."

Penelope gasped once more, hitting Derek's arm to accentuate every word she uttered, "_What?! No way!"_

Derek grinned, "It came out of nowhere. You were right. That dance is really… _you know_. It got the better of us."

Penelope shoved Derek's shoulder, "Shut up. Shut. Up!"

Derek chuckled and said under his breath, "Son of a bitch shoved me into a door too. Wasn't messin' around at all."

Penelope whispered back, "Whoa! A door?! I would have never guessed. He puts up this virginal front, and—"

Derek cackled quietly, "Spencer? A virgin? Oh, God. Don't make me laugh."

"'Crouching tiger, hidden dragon', huh?" Penelope breathed.

"Definitely," Derek replied, "He'd kill me if he knew I told you."

She blinked, "Wow, so are you two…"

Derek lifted his palms, "No! No way. We're not together. It was just a one-time situation, but… you know… if sexual tension was a scale of one to ten, we have successfully reached 'destiel'."

Penelope's eyebrows raised, "Damn."

Derek added, "Poor guy is trying so hard to get out of talking about it with me. Makes me wonder."

She waved her hand around, "He's into you, don't worry."

Derek glanced across the couch at his brown-eyed dance partner, "I wouldn't be so sure…"

Penelope spoke a thought, "I would. He holds your hand on live television."

Derek discounted, "It's a publicity stunt."

Penelope raised a pointer finger, "He looks at you funny."

Derek answered, "He's nearsighted and his contacts are drying out on him."

Penelope folded her arms, "He blushes around you all the time."

Derek scoffed, "He blushes at everything. The wind blows and he blushes. He sees a hamburger and he blushes. You mention the fourth season of Heroes and he blushes. It makes no sense."

Penelope narrowed her eyes at him, "At this point, I think you're trying to win this argument."

Derek sighed, "I don't know, Baby Girl… you did hear what David said about Spencer being able to teach anything but passion. Maybe… maybe Spencer did teach it. In the wire closet."

"Wait, wait, wait," Penelope raised her palm, "You think that Doc could have manipulated your attraction to him to get the perfect dance out of you?"

Derek replied, "Key words: could have."

Penelope attempted to smack him once more, "Dude, key words: _wouldn't have_! He's not that much of a jerk. Besides, I don't think Doc is capable of that level of bullshit. He can't even lie right."

Derek murmured, "Yeah, he can."

Penelope called over the couch, "Hey, Doc!"

Spencer turned, "Yeah?"

Penelope asked simply, "You ever fantasize about Harry Potter?"

Spencer went red and blinked rapidly, "Wh—what? Why… I never. No, P-penelope. No."

Penelope looked over at Derek, "See? His lilywhite ass couldn't bluff if he wanted to."

Derek asked, "How did you know about that?"

Penelope replied, "He's a nerd with an ambivalent sexuality. Of course he's fantasized about Harry Potter."

Derek looked over to his dance partner, whom was back into a binding conversation with goth singer, Emily Prentiss. He wonders what they're talking about. Like Derek and Penelope, Spencer and Emily had carved out their own little private Idaho on their side of the couch. Their heads were leaned close and chatting with grins on their faces, obviously geeking out about something.

Penelope glanced over her shoulder, "Well, don't they look chummy?"

Derek let out a pause, "Yeah, he's got his geek face on. Lord knows what they're talking about, but I bet five dollars it's science related."

Penelope laughed, "Probably is. Hey, I'm going to go get a glass of water. Want one?"

Derek nodded, eyes on the talking pair, "Yeah. Thanks."

Penelope stood in a rush of pink tool, "Alright. I'll be right back. Don't go nowhere, handsome."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Derek said distractedly.

As Penelope left, he strained his ears over and listened as best he could. He couldn't make out much, but what he did hear contained a lot of weird throaty sounds. Were they speaking Russian? Wow. Of course Spencer knows Russian. Derek doesn't even know why he's shocked. He should really know better at this point than to assume he was monolingual.

Derek leaned back on the couch and watched as the closing ceremony went by below him was fed live on the televisions in front of the couches. He got a peek into some of his competitors' dances. Penelope and Gleb did the cutest Lindy Hop he's ever seen. Emily and Derek Hough swept across the stage in a spellbinding contemporary piece. The racist comedian barely put up a Jive, and the sexy actress Ashley Seaver stumbled her way through a quickstep. Next, Derek and Spencer's dance was given a little five second spotlight, and wow. They were… sexier than he thought they would be. The part they showed was the lift, and boy, seeing it in the mirror in sweaty tee shirts couldn't even compare to how it looked put together on a television with lights and make up and a stage wow.

Derek looked strong and passionate and Spencer was just as so, each move telling a story. And as Derek's character raised his beloved above him, he did it not just for the hell of it, but because he was putting his love before him and above him in all ways. Yeah, he pokes fun at his date, but he truly loves the man, and won't hesitate to show it. Spencer's character knew how loved he was, and instead of pushing back, he accepted it. The dancer fell into his arms in ease. Sure, he was pissed at his date for dancing with another woman, but he also truly loves his man, and won't hesitate to show it.

Spencer was lowered to the ground, his foot crisply grazing the floor as Derek pulled him along before setting him down, as if he was afraid to let him go. They looked into each other's' eyes, and continued on with the quick four-step seamlessly.

Their clip ended and moved on to the next, and Derek felt eyes on him, turning his head to glance at whomever was staring at him. It was Spencer. His expression was unreadable, yet, there was a meaning in his large brown eyes that Derek wished to God he understood. Spencer's lips curled up in a toothless smile and he raised his hands to clap handsomely, nodding his head in recognition, grinning across the couch, "Nice lift."

Derek laughed and winked, "All for you, baby."

Spencer chuckled, waving a hand at him, "Better be, handsome."

Derek tossed over a goofy impression of the Blue Steel.

"Oh, my-" Spencer fell into a pile of snickers, leaning his head into Emily's shoulder for support.

She giggled and pointed, "Fucking A, man."

Spencer shook his head and laughed, "It's his sexiness. We're not strong enough to behold it."

Derek gave him another Zoolander look and balled up a napkin, throwing it across the bustling couch. Spencer threw one back and stuck his tongue out at him. Derek rolled his eyes at him fondly, "Mature."

Spencer mumbled out, a smile on his face, "You're… mature."

Derek teased, "Awesome comeback, kid."

Spencer bit his lip and answered, "You're an… awesome comeback…" The dancer failed in holding back the stare as his head leaned against the back of the couch. He bit his lip again and gave Derek a solid look down. Derek pointed to himself and Spencer covered his face with his hand for a moment and when it dropped, his face was pink. The football player continued to stare back, a confident smile on his face as Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear. Derek winked and Spencer's blush deepened.

Emily asked, "You want a towel for the drool, Doc?"

Spencer blushed a deeper shade of red and nervously muttered, "I wasn't _drooling_," while he wiped along his chin, "Was I though? Honestly."

Penelope plunked down on the couch, severing the eye contact between the two dancers, "They were all out of Dasani, so I got you sparkling. Is that alright?"

Derek nodded, taking the can from her, "Thank you, Mama."

She raised her can, clinking it against his, "Here's to being at the top of the leaderboard."

"Amen to that." Derek added, "You're number three, girl. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to go after you."

She smirked, "And you're number one, boy. Ditto."

Derek grinned, "Bring it."

* * *

**A/N: Next week, as the recently acknowledged sexual tension rises, things get scandalous in the studio. *gasp* What will happen? Stick around, and you won't be disappointed. **

**Love,**

**Blue**


	8. The Deal

**A/N: Moment of silence for that last episode of Criminal Minds. If "Route 66" didn't make you want to cry your eyes out... fuck. And all the M/R moments like the thing with the book and Morgan was all "I'll wait for the movie" I just... *sigh* I'm clearly still in fangirl mode. Don't mind me.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Deal

Derek slunk along the people-filled hallway on the fifth floor—a man on a mission. As he scoured the names on the dressing room doors, he searched out his partner's. Peta Mergatroyd. Mark Ballas. Derek Hough. Sharna. Karina. Val. Kym. Doc! There he is, nearly at the end.

A couple of company tee-shirted people zoomed past, wheeling a large metal contraption with sparkly clothes hanging from it, and shocked Derek into whiplash for a moment. Penelope walked by, her gown in a bunch at her knees as she scuttled by, hissing at the people who threatened to step on it. She missed Derek's wave, but that was okay. He wasn't here for her. Not now. Derek raised a knuckle and knocked thrice. Spencer called out, "Dammit, Tristan, for the millionth time! You can_not_ borrow my hairspray! You always forget to give it back!"

Derek chuckled and knocked once more.

"I love you, man, I do. But if I have to tell you one more time," Spencer hissed, striding toward the door.

Derek knocked again.

"I had to buy about six different cans over the last few—" Spencer opened the door and his eyes fell on Derek, "You're not Tristan."

Derek glanced along Spencer's wet hair and bare chest, left to his view from Spencer's open shirt, "Baby, for you… I could be."

"Don't be a smartass," Spencer blushed and opened the door wider so that Derek could enter, buttoning up the bottom two buttons of his blue Oxford as his partner slipped into the room. He wore the shirt over a tan pair of corduroys, a white towel around his neck to keep his damp hair from soaking into the fabric. Derek closed the door behind him and stole one more glance at Spencer's bare chest. He was pretty cutely built-if that's possible for a man.

The dancer reached up to scratch behind his neck and he looked just like that. A dancer. Spencer wasn't chiseled, muscled, or ripped, but then again, a gust of wind wasn't knocking him over any time soon either. His stomach was nearly flat, small dips in them showing the strength in his core. He had miles of smooth, milky skin seemingly soft to the touch. His clavicles were sharp and sudden, pushing at the skin below his long, slender neck, and Derek resisted walking over to him and running his tongue along the jutting bone. Spencer let out a scoff at the attention and Derek launched himself onto the make-up counter that doubled as a vanity wall and swung his feet over the edge of it after seating himself on it, "I'm not being a smartass, I'm being real, because _damn_, baby boy. You sexy as hell. I might go as far as to say 'you _furne_'."

Spencer glanced up, "Furne?"

Derek replied, "It's like 'fine', but better."

Spencer rolled his eyes at Derek, continuing up his shirt and dismissively mumbling a reply.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Derek waved his hands around, "Don't be in such a rush to close up that shirt."

Spencer let out a chuckle, buttoning the shirt up and flattening the collar out, "When I kissed you, I was not giving you permission to be a free-spirited perv."

"Oh, please! All men over the age of thirteen are pervs. Besides, dudes go topless all the time, and I've never seen your chest before. Well, not you were awake anyway," Derek groaned.

Spencer paused, "That statement didn't help your case at all."

Derek sighed, "We were drunk, and you saw me topless too! It's not like I creeped on you. Well... fine, I creeped on you, but only for a second."

Spencer gasped, "Derek!"

He added, "I didn't get that good a peek that time, so I'll tell you what. I'll give you five bucks if you take off your shirt."

Spencer folded his arms, "Five dollars? Really?"

Derek upped the ante, "Ten."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek.

Derek groaned and leaned his back against the mirror, "Fine. Thirty. I'm not going higher than that. My car's low on gas and I didn't stop by the pump this afternoon."

Spencer hissed at him, pinning up the last button of his shirt right against his neck, "I'm not a stripper and I will not be paid like one."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "So, you'd do it for free?"

Spencer growled, muttering to himself, "_Men_. Sometimes I wish I was straighter."

Derek paused his speech as Spencer reached the top button on his shirt, fastening it with ease, "Come on, man—all perving aside—you're seriously buttoning to the neck? Really? Who are you, the Bow Tie Killer?"

Spencer chuckled lightly at Derek's reference, letting the first two buttons free, "Fine, how's this?"

"I'd prefer three buttons, but you know I'm not picky," Derek said with a teasing smile.

Spencer scoffed mirthfully, "What?! Dude, you're hella picky. I had to stand in a Wawa line with you last week, and nearly died of old age waiting for you to choose your sub."

Derek joked with a gasp, "I like my bread toasted to perfection, okay?"

Spencer added, "With mushrooms and garlic and cayenne peppers and everything else on the planet that makes your breath toxic."

Derek said heatlessly, "Shut up, prima, you don't know nothin' about a good hot sub."

Spencer smiled up at him, something evil brewing behind his eyes, "I know plenty about _hot subs_..."

Derek pointed at Spencer, "Did you just make a sexual innuendo? About BDSM?"

Spencer countered while striding up to his make-up station, "Well, I had to. _You_ called me a prima and told me to shut up."

"Yes, I did," Derek replied, "And I'll say it again. 'Shut up, prima'."

Spencer walked closer to Derek, "First of all, it's 'premier danseur'. And secondly… if you want me to shut up, you're going to have to _make me_."

Derek eyed the dancer as he approached him, standing right at his knees. Spencer's eyes softly faded into a slow, lingering glance. Preparing to speak, Derek opened his mouth to feel Spencer's finger along it, closing it shut. He was so close, so very close. Moving closer then, Spencer's lips nearly brushed Derek's as he whispered, "You're sitting on my tie."

Blinking quickly, Derek scrambled off of the counter. His face gained blood as he stepped aside to let Spencer take his skinny red vintage tie from where he was seated. Spencer pushed up his collar wrapping the tie loosely around his neck and holding the ends out to Derek, "Help me with it?"

"Y-yeah, sure," Derek said, taking the ends of the tie and moving closer.

Spencer bit his lip and spoke into their shared space, "You smell really good..."

Derek wrapped one end of the tie around the other, "Do I?"

Spencer moved closer, "Yeah... you tasted pretty good too."

Derek glanced up, "You minx. Are you trying to seduce me?"

Spencer hooked his forefingers into Derek's belt straps between the denim and the leather belt, tugging on them gently, "Maybe, I am. Maybe, I'm not. Maybe... you did a nice job of throwing me around the dance floor tonight and I'm thinking of ways to repay you..."

"I can think of one," Derek answered, brushing his nose against Spencer's as their breaths played across their lips.

Spencer whispered out, "Tell me it."

Derek looked up into Spencer's eyes, letting the ends of the tie lay undone in his hands as he took a breath and replied, "Well, you can start by… talking to me about what happened in that closet."

Spencer let out a -tch- and licked his lips impatiently, "Why?!"

Derek sighed, "Because I have no idea what you want from me. One second, you're insulting me; the next, you're all over me. I mean, we... we need to communicate, or we're not going to work out at all. Not as partners, not as friends, not as whatever else. Spence, you need to talk to me because you. Are. Confusing. As. All. Hell."

"You want us to talk? Fine!" Spencer glared at him, pulling the ends of his tie from Derek's hands, "We kissed, okay?! Big deal! We don't need to discuss this. What are we, fourteen?"

Derek placed his hand gently on the side of Spencer's face, "I just want to know _why_. Does that make me a child?"

Spencer gave Derek a pleading look, leaning into his hand, "No, it doesn't, man. I-I'm sorry I'm spazzing on you, I just…"

Derek asked, "You just what?"

Spencer nervously pushed his damp hair behind his ear, "I don't want to talk about it."

Derek ran his thumb along Spencer's cheek, "And why not?"

Spencer got quiet, breathing out, "I don't want you to get mad at me."

The edge of Derek's lips quirked up, "Spencer, I promise I won't get mad. Out with it."

"I just… I kissed you. I moved my head." Spencer breathed out, face growing with color as he hung his head in shame, "You were doing a horrible Tango, but you thought you were so perfect. It was… really cute. And the closet was so dark, and intimate, and there weren't any cameras. No one would know. Just us. And I… I really wanted to kiss you. Just once. To see what it felt like. I know that I had a moment of weakness, and for that, I apologize. Just please, I'm begging you, let it go."

Derek leaned forward and pulled Spencer into his arms, feeling the man's face buried into his neck as the football player smirked, "You don't have to apologize, kid. I'm not mad. I'm just glad you told me."

Spencer mumbled into his shoulder, awkwarding his way out of the hug, "You sure you're not freaked out? You don't think I'm some weird kid with a creepy gay crush on you?"

Derek laughed aloud, "Of course not! Crush?! Are you serious?! I was just kidding when I said that... I mean... I could have _sworn_ you thought I was a handsy old man!"

"What?! No! That's… the furthest thing from my mind. _Handsy old man_? Come on, you're more like this dashing… suave… sexy…" Spencer's voice trailed off and he cleared his throat, "Anyway! Yeah. I had it in my mind that you thought I was this weirdo poindexter that the DWTS production team stuck you with. It's been clawing at me for weeks."

Derek replied, "What gave you that idea?!"

Spencer said, "Did you miss the part where you called me an alien? And Geek-a-saurus Rex? And Jimmy Nerd-tron? And compared me to _your grandmother_? Yeah, that did a lot for the small shred of security I had left in my sexuality. Thank you very much."

Derek waved it off, "Come on, man, I was just kidding around. You are extremely attractive. Yes, you have a nerdy side, but it's endearing. And you were asking for the grandma thing with the way that you drive, I mean Jesus Christ. It's like you think snails are speeding."

Spencer asked, "Now that you're apologizing for rude comments, are you going to take back the 'lady butt' thing?"

Derek moaned, glancing around Spencer, "Hell no. You're skin may be white, but that ass is Brazillian. And, I praise God for it."

Spencer's eyes widened in realization as he took in the information, "Oh! So, you think my butt is _nice_? I thought you thought it was weird looking and—oh, you voyeuristic prick! That's why you stare at my ass during lessons!"

Derek nodded his head, "You're getting it."

"No, I'm not," Spencer sighed, "I mean you're… you. Super badass football star. And I'm me. Twiggy little stage queer. We shouldn't be involved. Ever. It's like a _rule of the universe_. Newton's hidden fourth law of motion or something."

Derek turned his head to the side, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spencer gestured toward himself, "It means that guys like me _pine_ and _crush on_ and _lust after_ guys like you," Spencer then gestures to Derek, "And guys like you throw guys like me headfirst into trashcans and call us 'faggots'. That's just how the world works."

Derek chuckled, "...I can't call you a faggot, you're not on that level of gay to receive the title."

Spencer sighed, "I've slept with men before. Isn't that enough to accept me into the Faggotry?"

Derek shook his head, "No, man. Hell no. Fag is an insult you earn and wear with pride. It takes years and years of dedication, self-stereotyping, and whoring around to gain. I guarantee you. You haven't reached that stage yet. If you did, you'd know."

Spencer tossed his hands up, "Whatever! So, I'm not a fag! It doesn't matter anyway! Truth is: you're hot, I'm not; you're rule, I drool; you sit at the popular table of life and I eat in the bathroom! And it bothers me to no end that you haven't punched me in the nose for kissing you yet!"

Derek answered, "You mouth-fucked me so good, I'm still feeling hot. Why would I want to punch you?"

Spencer muttered, "Rrh! Derek! No! You're not getting it and this is so frustrating! I wish I could just turn it off, you know?! That's it. Plain and simple. I don't want to like you! I don't want to get those stupid butterfly things in my stomach when you smile at me! My _God_, do I _not_ want to have a naive little girly-crush on you! You're my hot student! I'm your teacher! And here I am, asking you to fix my tie for me like some loose floosy because I want you to pound me for what I did to you!"

Derek raised his eyebrows, "You want me to pound you?"

Spencer closed his eyes, "It would make me feel better if you did."

Derek stifled a laugh, "I don't think you know what pounding means..."

Spencer promised, "I definitely do not."

"Kid, listen," Derek replied, stepping into Spencer's space and gripping his shoulder, "You can't get so hung up over a kiss. It happened, and you can't be mad at it. And if you have feelings for me, hey, that's great. You can't help who you crush on, believe me. If it was possible, the world would be a very different place. But, if that's not enough for you, fine. I can't change your mind. You can keep on being mad, I won't complain," Derek reached over and touched a tendril of Spencer's damp hair, "You're insanely beautiful when you are."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, "Come on, man, stop it with the 'beautiful' shit."

Derek took Spencer's hands in his, "No. Because you _are_ beautiful, you dick. These last few weeks… have been a crazy train because of you. I planned on locking myself in the closet and swallowing the key before I even met you. Then, I entered this competition and, here you are. Being funny, and charming, and talented, and brilliant, and beautiful as all hell—pretty much everything I _didn't _need at the time. And thanks to that, I went and fell for you like the dumb bastard I am. So, for all the emotional turmoil, angst, and frustration I have suffered by your hand, the one thing you can do for me is take the damned compliment."

Spencer blinked, "Well."

Derek laughed, "Yeah."

A smile crept up on Spencer's face, "I… wow, Derek. I'm flattered, really. But—"

Derek replied, "Let me guess. You're shooting me down?"

Spencer shook his head and made a face, "Please don't take it personally. We can't... date or anything. No matter how we feel. It's still inappropriate."

Derek added with a little smirk, "How about we don't date, then?"

Spencer paused, "… I don't understand."

Derek took a breath, "As much as this kills me, we have other options."

Spencer laughed, "What are they?"

Derek spoke, "We could do nothing at all, you know? Go to rehearsals and pretend as if we don't want to rip each other's clothes off, waiting patiently as the sexual frustration strangles us to our untimely deaths."

Spencer chuckled, "You want to rip my clothes off?"

Derek smirked, "Like they're on fire."

"Likewise. I don't want that first option. Sexual tension and I aren't friends," Spencer responded, "Give me another."

Derek added, "Option number two: we could drop the competition altogether. Pursing each other would no longer be inappropriate, seeing as our pesky student-teacher complex would go poof."

Spencer made a face, "Fuck no. This job's paying off my student loans. Besides, even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't. I'm on contract."

Derek replied, "I'm not."

Spencer glared, "Derek."

"I know, I know. Sportsmanship and integrity bullshit. That's why there's a third option." Derek raised his eyebrows, "… sneaking around. It sounds smart, but be warned. This calls for random instances of rabid, passionate, lust-driven sex. No strings. No boyfriend benefits. All business."

Spencer started to smile, "Intrigued."

Derek raised a point, "And I'm not doing the whole love-em-and-leave-em thing either, okay? That's that little boy stuff. After we fuck, I'm going to be there in the morning making you breakfast like an adult because I respect the shit out of you."

Spencer blushed, "Well, I wouldn't mind that. I respect the shit out of you too. I'd want you to stay."

"Good, because I always make too much coffee," Derek said easily, eyeing Spencer up, "Plus, seeing you in bed all grumpy and rumpled in your pajamas is a perk I can't skip out on."

Spencer stared Derek down, "But, what if I fall asleep naked?"

Derek paused, "...that would be a game changer."

"It would," Spencer asked, "You know what, say we chose this... could we add non-sexual things to the agreement?"

Derek replied, "Non-sexual things like what, man? Cuz, I could have sworn I _just_ said 'no boyfriend shit'."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Come on, I'm serious. I meant non-sexual things like... casual make-out sessions, and tee shirt stealing, and Doctor Who nights. You know, stuff like that."

Derek blinked, "Eww. What am I, your boo?"

Spencer pushed at Derek's chest, "Of course, not. Gross. I just wanted to know if that kind of stuff is totally off limits, because, I'm going to be honest, a good hard fucking sounds _great_—especially on a regular basis with a breakfast guarantee—but sometimes I just want to snuggle, you know?"

Derek added, "If that's what you want, sure. I don't mind. It's been a while since someone braided my hair and gave me a manicure."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at his partner, "Hey! I'm a man who likes cuddling, okay? That's just who I am. Don't mock me."

"Dude, it's fine, really. All jokes aside, I'm a bit of a fan of it too. Especially on couches. Watching a movie or something. Some hot chocolate. A fuzzy blanket-" Derek pointed a warning finger at Spencer, "Tell anyone I said any of that and you're dead. I'm serious. I know people back in Chicago that can kill you with a toothpick in sixteen different ways."

Spencer grinned, "I won't breathe a word of it. Have we reached a consensus?"

Derek replied, "Yeah, I guess we have."

"Good. Wanna shake on it?" Spencer grinned, holding out a hand.

Derek took his hand, "Damn right."

Spencer shook Derek's hand, "Sex partners?"

Derek shook, "Sex partners. You are now officially under oath. I hope you realize what you're getting yourself into."

"Oh, please. _You're_ the one who doesn't know what's coming," Spencer scoffed, "I've been on a pretty long dry spell, so I'm going to be a bit... hard to control."

Derek released his hand, saying, "Just what I like to hear" as Spencer glanced fondly back at him. The two held the look for a few moments before Spencer pushed his damp hair behind his ear, "Well… I gotta finish getting dressed, so…"

"Yeah. Of course." Derek added, gesturing toward the door, "Do you want me to…"

Spencer made a considering face, "You should probably… yeah."

Derek took a step back, "We're not going to seal it with a kiss?"

Spencer let out a mysterious smile, "Not yet."

Derek raised his palms in earnest, "Holding off on me already, huh? That's kinda hot. I'll just be out then."

Spencer chuckled with a snort, "Get out of my dressing room, handsy old man."

Derek gave Spencer a little grin as he ducked out of the door, "Later, sexy."

Spencer raised his hand, "See you."

Closing the door behind him, Derek pumped his fist in the crowded hallway and murmured, "Yes!"

* * *

Tuesday night came in a rush and before they knew it, it was time for one couple to be eliminated. As the only couple to earn not only one—but two—scores of ten from the previous night, the two were obviously staying for another week. The flurry of dancers and stars around them were bustling about as usual. Cameras were rushing around behind them as pictures were taken and Tweets were sent and statuses were updated, it was a very hectic time. And there Spencer stood, fiddling with his bowtie. The kid obviously couldn't get it straight, and instead of helping, Derek just stood and watched with a smile on his face.

Spencer grimaced and placed his hands at his sides. He had given up. At least, he had for the next two minutes. Within that time, he'll probably be at it again. He always gets nervous before elimination, whether they're a shoo-in or not. Spencer could be found constantly biting his lips, brushing his hair behind his ears, and shifting from foot to foot. His eyes never stay in the same set place for too long, and if he's wearing something, he will be tugging on it and fixing it over and over. Speaking of… there he goes with the tie again.

Derek reached toward his partner's tie, "You need help with that, Doctor?"

"You are aware that I was feigning yesterday, right?" Spencer murmured, "…I know how to loop a bowtie."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Well, you're doing a piss poor job at it. You've got it all knotted up."

Spencer sighed in defeat and turned to Derek, presenting himself and gesturing at his collar, "I'm aware. Pre-elimination jitters, you know? Sometimes, I hear the crowd, and it's like… a big roaring monster. I can handle Hotch, Dave, and Jennifer, but they're not the only ones judging me, you understand?"

Derek got into Spencer's space and placed his hands at his bowtie, looping the correct ends through each other, "Judgment? Boy, do I know it. Sports Center has dragged my name through the mud so bad this morning that dental records couldn't identify it."

Spencer let out a small laugh and covered his mouth with his hand, "I'm sorry. Your analogy was just—sorry. That's not funny."

Derek hissed, "Like hell it's not. I worked so hard—decades—to get where I am, and they make it seem like none of it mattered. They used to praise me, now I'm the butt of every NFL joke."

Spencer bit his lips and gave Derek a soulful look, "It's unfair of them to do that."

"And it's unfair of _you_ to ruin your tux over nerves, because I have to stand next to your rumpled ass on live television," Derek straightened Spencer's tie one last time and pressed a palm to his face, "Don't worry your pretty little head over me. I've got tough quarterback skin. I'll be fine."

Spencer mumbled under his breath, "Not pretty."

Derek pinched his cheek, despite the pitter of cameras snapping and people running, "Yes, you are."

Spencer glared up at him with that little kitten glower, lips poked out in a way that made Derek want to kiss smooth, "No, I'm not, Derek. Cut it out."

Derek added, smooshing Spencer's cheeks in his hands so that his pout intensified, "You're cute and sweet and adorable and happiness and rainbows and puppies."

Spencer's glare intensified through his mashed cheeks, "I. Hate. You."

Derek leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spencer's forehead. He was so cute when he was angry. Derek whispered that against his skin and Spencer relaxed under the kiss, hands gripped loosely around Derek's wrists. Spencer whined, "Derek..."

A camera flashed beside them and a tall woman in glasses said from behind the large Nikkon, "Money shot!"

"Fuck," Derek hissed under his breath, dropping his hands from Spencer's face, "Who do you work for?"

She winked and sped off, "FOX News!"

Derek growled, "Double fuck!"

Spencer laughed, rubbing his jaw, "Hey, on a good note, my Prince Eric hair probably looked fabulous in that shot."

Derek grimaced, "Man, ain't nobody give a fuck about your girly-ass hair."

Spencer leaned in and whispered, "That's not what you said when you were sexting me about pulling on it last night."

Derek raised a finger, "You little vixen. I'm on to you."

Spencer laugh once more and wiggled his eyebrows, "Good. That means you're not as slow as you look."

Derek's jaw dropped, "Ow!"

For what seems like the millionth time, Team Wild Card was stuck under the white spotlight with the eyes of millions on them as they were told yay or nay. For the _yay_-ers, everything would be coming up roses and for that one team that gets the axe… _shame_. Complete and total shame. At this point in the competition, the only people leaving the competition were the stinkers. And Derek and Spencer don't stink. Well… not in that way. They dance beautifully together, even though it looks a little weird to the seasoned eye. There's no way they're going to be left to pack their bags. No way in Hell. Spencer really shouldn't be nervous. Derek isn't. He's not even worried.

Bring on the competition.

They stood in line beside Penelope and Gleb, Emily and Hough, and Ashley and Tristan. Derek and Spencer stuck out like a sore thumb in their two tuxedos, but in their recent victory, the group of three looked nervous about their placement. If that wasn't an ego boost, Derek doesn't know what is.

Penelope leaned over before the host started calling the names and winked a glittery eyelash at Derek, mouthing the words soundlessly, "Prepare to die."

Derek nearly laughed. While their Lindy Hop was cute last week, Derek and Spencer kicked everyone's ass with that Argentine Tango. Derek would be rocking in a fetal position on the floor if someone else did _that_ dance _that_ well on the same week as him. Not to be arrogant, but God they were in a good spot right now.

Patting Spencer's shoulder, Derek shook it with a tough smack, "Don't worry. We're not leaving tonight."

The crowd was signaled to die down and the host brought out his glittery red card, gesturing to the group of dancers and starting on some spiel about them coming so far to get where they are. Derek tuned him out. Whatever, dude. Just get to the name calling. Spencer twitched beside him and Derek reached over and grabbed his hand on impulse, lacing their fingers together. After a moment, Spencer visibly relaxed if not a little bit and edged closer to him until their arms were touching. Derek looked over at him and caught his eyes. Spencer's large brown ones seemed to smile up at him. Derek itched to kiss his forehead again, but he knew that it would be a line crossed—especially considering the whole no-strings thing they're in.

The host called out, "The first group to stay is…"

Theatrical pause. Theatrical pause. Theatrical pause.

"Derek and Spencer!" he shouted out, "Who were also voted to do the spotlight dance tonight!"

Spencer's face lit up and he jumped, pulling his hand from Derek's just in time to punch him in the arm. Derek let out an, "Ah!" but before he could complain further, the lights went out. Spencer hugged him around the neck and murmured, "You're amazing." A smile peeked up on Derek's lips and Spencer shoved him, "Don't get cocky."

The two had to head down quickly across the stage to prepare to tango once more for the crowd who apparently liked it so much that they were voted above every other pair to see it again. As soon as they made it behind the cameraless curtain, Derek brought his hand to his own tie, "Is this on straight?"

Spencer joked, "No, it's on gay."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Just fix it."

"You're stealing my move," Spencer answered easily, sparing a glance at it reaching up to fix it anyway.

Derek smirked, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Spencer replied, poking at Derek's chest, "Remember to relive the weight on your back foot for the lift and watch your posture."

Derek noted, "Posture, posture."

Spencer placed a flat hand on the base of his spine, "Pretend that there's a steel rod in place of your spine. You can't do anything but bend at the waist, okay?"

Derek replied, "Weird, but doable."

Spencer brushed off Derek's jacket at the shoulders and his hands ended atop his chest as he looked up into Derek's eyes, "You're going to do great, okay?"

Derek smiled at him, "Of course."

Spencer slid a hand up to his neck, "No, really, Derek. You're going to do great. You're amazing."

Derek waved his hand, "Aww, shucks, Mister."

Spencer laughed and brought a hand down on Derek's chest, "I'm proud of you, you jerk, don't ruin it."

"I won't," Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "Speaking of doing amazing… I need to be in the passionate mood to do this dance correctly, right?"

Spencer pointed seriously, "Yes! Yes, you do."

Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer's small frame, tugging him close, "Imma need you to help me out with that."

Spencer breathed, "Come here."

"Barking orders, huh? Mmm, I like," Derek replied as Spencer chuckled and pulled him into the shadows of the wall, bringing them close until all he could see was those soft brown eyes. "Shut up," Spencer murmured as he moved forward to kiss him.

But, before their lips could meet, music started on the other side of the curtain and the two separated, Spencer running out before him. Derek followed him out with a goofy smile on his face. God, this kid is going to be the death of him. He'll enjoy every minute of it.

They began to Tango to the upbeat song, Spencer becoming the fussy date and Derek the desperate, doting lover. The steps were still fresh in their heads, as they had each move and twist in their sense memory. They weren't getting judged tonight, so this dance wasn't about professionalism, sharp lines, or crisp stance. This dance was all about having fun with the moves. Derek twirled Spencer around and he felt free to laugh when Spencer served up little pouts. The dancer stayed in character for about thirty seconds into the dance before cracking his first smile at Derek. The crowd was clapping along with the music as they danced the Latin dance, moving around each other in courting twists.

Then, it happened.

"Get off the stage, queers!" someone in the crowd shouted.

Derek glanced over to the crowd and Spencer clenched his grip on Derek's hands, leading him back into the dance. Derek finished his four-step, his jaw locked as the shouting man had an accomplice.

"You guys are disgusting!"

"This isn't dancing!"

"Come on, dudes, gross! Lets get some ladies up in here!"

"Get the gays off the stage!"

"Fags!

"Yeah! Leave! Get out!"

The sound of the music was noticeably heightened to try to drown them out. It was too late at that point, they were way too loud. It was a group. And as Derek turned Spencer to do their lift, he noticed that they had big signs with them that said unspeakable things. Those motherfuckers planned this.

Security strode up to the groups before Derek could even let Spencer down. Derek felt a tug on his collar as Spencer landed in his arms and looked into Spencer's impatient eyes. The dancer was urging him on. Derek completed the move and Spencer and hissed, "Forget them and twirl me, dammit!"

The group was being hauled out of the audience, still shouting and kicking and screaming Bible verses at them as Derek spun back to Spencer and kicked out a decent two-step. It wasn't his best, but he was so far away from this dance right now. When the chorus picked up, Spencer got into Derek's space and instead of allowing himself to be grabbed by the waist, he did the turn himself and kept his eyes on Derek, consequently giving Derek time to get over the assholes in the crowd.

Derek took Spencer's waist and dipped him, going for the next move with his eyes on his dance partner. Spencer went with it and tried to get the hype back up again. They eventually did. It only took a few seconds to get back where they were supposed to be. After that, the mood in the room was hard to ignore. Mostly everyone in the crowd was pissed off, and so was Derek. Either they agreed with the yelling group of 'phobes, or they were angered by the interruption.

The two completed the dance in silence.

Spencer cast a look over at him while the audience gave hesitant applause, "Well, that was horrible."

Derek clenched his jaw. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. He caught his breath beside his partner and looked around, seeing their eyes glued to him. Jesus. Everyone was still staring at him. Spencer was a dancer, he'd faced assholes like this his whole life, but this level of hatred was kind of new to Derek. He'd only experienced a bit of it during the "Marcus Thing". But, this? This hurt. It hurt bad. And, God. _Everyone_ was _staring_ at him. Derek pursed his lips and pushed past Spencer, heading straight for the exit with his hands balled up into fists, "I need a minute."

* * *

Derek strode into his hotel room late that night, tired out of his mind. He barely gave himself time to close and lock the door before he collapsed onto his bed and closed his eyes. Yes, this feels good. He smells like stale sweat, and his socks are damp, but this right here is what dreams are made of. Derek snuggled his face into the pillow as if it were an old friend and mumbled nonsense into it. It was his best friend today. Oh, yes. His very best friend.

The sheets smelled like lavender and the floor was nice and vacuumed. Seems like the cleaning lady came in here and spruced up a bit. Just as Derek was starting to relax into the nice, warm, clean bed…

His phone started singing "Genuine Only" as obnoxiously as possible. Derek partially blames Spencer for this Ne-yo kick he's been on lately as he raised his head in confusion. He didn't even notice that he fell asleep. Derek glanced out of the window, seeing the shallow light streaming in through the window.

Derek reached across the sheets and grabbed it, reading the caller ID. Fuck. His mom. Now? Really? Rrh.

He held the phone up to his ear and mumbled into his pillow, "Ma? It's five thirty in the morning."

"Time change! I forgot. I'm so sorry, sweetie. I was just worried," Mrs. Morgan's voice rang out worriedly, "Oh, Derry Bear, are you okay? I missed Wednesday's performance and just turned on the little ABC thingy on that phone you gave me, and saw a bit of last night. I feel so bad about what happened. I wish I was there for you, baby. How are you holding up?"

Derek said tiredly into the fabric, "I'm fine. Those guys were taken down by security; it was fun to watch."

His mother worried, "But they were so mean! I don't know how you could stand it! Do you want me to come over there? Mommy will make you some soup, we'll snuggle up in fleece blankets, and watch Days of Our Lives."

Derek's head popped up from his pillow, "Was anyone around you when you said that sentence?"

She replied, "No, just my hairdresser."

Derek let out a deep breath, "Oh, thank God. Tell Julio I said 'hi'."

Over the years, Julio has heard so many conversations between him and his mother that it's practically like he's involved. He's given advice, sworn himself to secrecy, and has begged to trim Derek's beard, so the guy is pretty much a cousin to him.

His mother said a muffled, "Derek says 'hi'."

Julio exclaimed from the other end of the phone, "Chello, mi amor! Your mother _nees_ to gedda better condishioner! Please help her out, pobrecito."

"I will, Julio," Derek smiled back, turning on his bed to lay on his back. Yes, that felt wonderful.

Julio replied, "And, Der-eek, I saw chu on TV a couple nights ago with that handsome lil hombre. Is he see-ink anyone?"

Derek chuckled, "Could you please give the phone back to my mother?"

"Yess," Julio pouted, "I laff chu."

Derek laughed, "I love you too, man."

Julio let out a squeal and handed the phone to his mother. Mrs. Morgan replied, "So, if you need a little Mommy-and-Son time, I am glad to oblige. I'll take a couple of days off work and we'll just have a weekend. Does that sound nice?"

Derek sighed into the phone, staring up at the ceiling, "Mom, really, I'm fine. People want to get crazy over our performances, let 'em. They sure as hell got an eyeful on Monday and they'll get another next week. Spencer and I are fine."

His mother nodded, "And the real answer?"

Derek paused and licked his lower lip in worry, "I… I remember how I felt when this first happened to me, and I'm a jerk. I ran and let him deal with it alone. I don't want him to have to feel like that, you know? Like I won't ever be there. He wasn't mad at me or nothing, but... I know I messed up, Ma. I just want to take it all back. Stand there and be strong for him. He deserves that."

He could nearly hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "He can look after himself, Derek, he's a grown man. It's not your responsibility."

Derek let out a weak quirk of his lips, "Is it wrong that I want it to be?"

Mrs. Morgan spoke, "Honey, it's not wrong. Not at all. That's what I told you in the sixth grade, remember. Kenny Washington. Ooh, you had such a crush on that boy, but you denied it to no end. It was hilarious."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Come on, Mom. Please don't bring up Kenny."

She added, "You know, I saw his mother in the supermarket yesterday and we had the nicest conversation. He's a soccer coach now at the Middle School you guys used to go to. Very handsome man. Nice genes, good breeding. His career choice could be a bit more lucrative, but I'm not judging."

Derek warned, "Could you not try to set me up right now, Ma?"

"I'm not trying to set you up," she explained, "I know you have Jordan. I'm just saying—"

Derek rushed, "I don't actually have Jordan anymore."

"…what?" she replied.

Derek smiled weakly, "She's been cheating on me for months now, and I recently found out. Short story: she started the fight, I ended it. For good."

Mrs. Morgan clapped, "Oh, thank the Lord! Y'all knew I couldn't stand that girl. I want to say she'll have Hell to pay for sneaking around on you, but I'm just so goddamn glad she's gone. Ooh, boy, I could sing."

Derek laughed, "Mama, you know you ratchet."

She giggled, "Hell yeah, I am! My baby's free!"

Derek sidenoted, "Eh… not quite."

His mother sighed with a smile still left over, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's been a couple of weeks since the break up, and in that time—" Derek started.

Mrs. Morgan stopped him with a grin in her voice, "It's your instructor, isn't it?"

Derek felt his face flush as he replied, "… not really. I have a thing for him is all, you know? Kid's got under my skin. I can't help it."

She gasped with a laugh, "Oh, Derek, I'm so proud of you! I _told_ you he was an excellent young man. I _told_ you. He's so handsome, and kind, and polite—not to mention a _doctor_. You should have him over for a weekend! That would be wonderful!"

Derek sighed, "Mom! We're not together."

His mother added, "Well then, get together so that I can have him over already."

Derek chuckled, "I have the feeling you like him more than I do."

Mrs. Morgan cackled, "You're probably right!"

Derek spoke casually, "Well, he likes you too, really. I'll ask about the whole weekend thing."

"He'll be sleeping in the guest room, honey," his mother added.

Derek sputtered, "I—wha—no, Ma. We're not sleeping with each other—"

She sassed, "Your last dance proved otherwise. Guest room. No 'buts'."

"I'm not 'but'ing. I'm just saying. We're not involved, so there would be no need to—"

"Guest. Room." Mrs. Morgan reiterated.

Derek started to laugh, "Okay, okay. Fine. He's sleeping in the guest room."

"Good," she said mirthfully over the phone, "I want grandkids, but if they are conceived under my roof—so help me, God—I will beat your ass."

Derek paused, "Mom. Spencer and I can't even…"

His mother growled, "Don't even try to tell me that. I saw that pregnant man on the news a couple years back, and I'll be damned if that's my unmarried son."

Derek slowly gave up explaining, "Yes, Ma, you're right. I'll try not to get pregnant in your house."

Mrs. Morgan answered, "Good boy. Now, tell me about your life, son. How are you?"

Derek shrugged, "Everything hurts, my left big toenail is turning blue, and I've been lucid dreaming like a heroin addict because of how tired Spencer's making me every practice."

"Weren't you a football player? Can't you deal with the exercise?" she asked.

Derek groaned and ran a hand down his face, "It's not exercise, it's Nazism. Spencer needs arresting for what he puts me through."

His mother said with a smile he could hear through the phone, "Great. It's not exercise until you feel like you want to smack your teacher."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "I want to smack my teacher alright. Just not on the face."

She gasped, "Derek Joshua Morgan. You'd better watch your mouth. He's a nice boy."

Derek chuckled darkly, "He won't be when I'm done with him."

Mrs. Morgan warned, "If you touch that boy out of wedlock…"

"You'll beat my ass, Ma, I know," he replied with a smile.

His mother stopped and added, "Well, it's time for my hot rollers to come out. I'll see you later, baby."

Derek replied, "Bye, Mom."

She answered, "I love you. Sleep well, and don't forget to pray for yourself."

Derek smiled to himself, "I won't."

* * *

On Wednesday, Spencer sat on the floor, among piles and piles of CDs, sheet music, and pencils. Beside him was a dated ACER laptop. His hair was sloppily pulled back into a weird sort of ponytail off center on the back of his head and it had—yet another—pencil stuck into it. He seemed in deep concentration as Derek entered the studio and regarded him with a big, bright smile, holding up a steaming cup of coffee, "Derek! Come. Sit."

Derek paused, "…okay."

The tall man crouched awkwardly and sat beside the excited looking dancer whom was holding out the cup. There really were a horrifying amount of papers around him, and at a glance, Derek could tell that Spencer's handwriting was adorably crooked. It was almost childlike. Strange for one so educated.

"Okay, so I figured out what our best moves are regarding this week and its challenge," Spencer began, pencil waving in his ponytail, "Say for instance the year you choose is a sad one. We have the options of the Jazz, Contemporary, and Viennese Waltz left—which would be fantastic in and of its own if you're willing to work for it. Then, if it's happy-go-lucky, the Lindy Hop, Rumba, or the Foxtrot would be the ideal. Not very difficult, but quite jumpy. You'll need to save up some energy for those. If it's more of a successful thing, then you can grab the bull by the horns and go with a Samba. Just be careful with it, or we'll bomb-a the Samba" Spencer laughed, "Get it, I made a joke."

Derek gave Spencer a long, searching look, "Is it really that hard for you to be normal just one time?"

Spencer nodded emphatically, "Yes. Yes, it is."

Derek chuckled, "You've done a lot of homework on this."

Spencer answered, "'Homework' is my middle name. Now reveal unto me your most memorable year."

Derek let a moment pass by before glancing over at the dancer, "The year before by father died."

Spencer paused for a moment, "Oh. I'm… I'm sorry."

Derek waved it off, "Man, don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. I just remember the whole family being together, you know? My mom having him in her life. The stories he'd tell me and my sisters when he came home from work. The way he never let us go to sleep without giving us a hug and telling us he loved us. My dad was a spirited, soulful, nut job of a guy—and I worshiped him… he needs to be remembered, you know? This would be the ultimate tribute. Not to his death, but to his life. How he made me feel when he was still moseying around, not how he made he feel when he wasn't. I want this dance to be happy, because he was happy. Is this making any sense..?"

"Yeah, total," Spencer's lips quirked up as he scooched his way across the thick pile of papers to sit closely beside Derek, "Actually, it's a brilliant idea. I like it a lot."

Derek laughed and wrapped an arm around Spencer's shoulders, the dancer fitting so well against him as he replied, "You do?"

Spencer hesitated and leaned his head on Derek's shoulder, "It's beautiful."

Derek looked down to meet his eyes, but was confronted with a mess of warm, soft curls. He smiled into them, "Whoa. I actually did something right."

Spencer bumped his shoulder against Derek, "Don't get your hopes up. It's not a daily occurrence."

Derek pulled a lock of hair out of Spencer's ponytail and pushed it over the dancer's face, "Screw you, it's an hourly one."

"You wish," Spencer answered with a grin, pausing before adding, "Want to talk about yesterday? You seemed pretty upset; took off for about an hour."

Derek went still and replied, "No."

Spencer sighed and leaned his head on Derek's chest, "I was really worried."

Derek nudged him, "I just needed a minute alone. Didn't want to do something stupid. But, I ended up doing just that by leaving you there."

"Are you kidding? The bad guys were already vanquished by the time you ran off. The crowd was a little intense and it scared you, I get it. Not even Superman can handle a giant wall of judgement with eyes," Spencer nodded, "I understand. Just… let me know where you're going next time. You know? So, I don't pull my hair out."

Derek finished confusedly, "Wait, you _care_ about me? As a person?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Please, as if. I just didn't want to lose my dancer in a group of people because—"

Derek grinned, "You care about me."

Spencer grimaced, "So, what? I care about you. Whatever. Don't get cocky."

Derek smiled and silence fell. It was comfortable though, not at all full and awkward. They just had nothing to say to each other. Spencer spoke softly, "I hope for a waltz this week."

Derek rested his chin on Spencer's head, "I don't. The count is wack as fuck."

Spencer let out a quiet laugh, "That's one way to put it, I guess."

Derek glanced down at the dancer in his arms, "You got the envelope? I don't feel like getting up."

Spencer sifted his hand through the papers of sheet music and produced an unopened envelope, lifting it for Derek without moving his head from his chest, "Go nuts."

Derek worked his arms around Spencer to open the note. Spencer moved closer so that Derek could use both hands beside him. "Well, kid, you must be a magician." Derek replied.

Spencer sent Derek a smile, "It's the Viennese Waltz, isn't it?"

"Yes, Houdini," Derek dropped his head down and mumbled into Spencer's hair, "It's the Viennese Waltz."

Spencer chuckled, "My favorite."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Of course, it's your favorite, weirdo."

Spencer looked up at him, "Got any song ideas?"

Derek paused and looked back down at Spencer, "Skinny Love by Bon Iver. It's my mom's favorite song. She says it reminds her of him."

Spencer let out a smile, "Bon Iver, it is."

Derek smiled easily, "Great."

Spencer snuggled his head into Derek's chest, "Now, get your ass up and start doing lunges before I scissor kick you in the throat."

* * *

**A/N: Stay tuned next week to see how Derek and Spencer's little agreement works out... or doesn't.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	9. Perfect Lips

**A/N: Hello, my beautifuls. Don't forget to czech out the AO3 version of this story which is now equipped with a playlist of all the songs used in Raising the Barre. The playlist will be updated on AO3 as well every time a new song is mentioned in the story! Now, you don't have to go digging for it if you get curious about the music _or_ if you're a goober like me and want to listen along with the dancing.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER NINE: Perfect Lips

"Five, six, seven, eight," Spencer called.

Derek raised his elbows parallel to his and Spencer's joined hands for the sixth time in a row after several failed attempts. The instructor counted off the beats and Derek followed along in his head; one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three. The two moved slowly together after Spencer's brief instruction, and Derek found this dance a lot easier than he expected. That is, until he stepped on Spencer's foot, "Oh, man! I'm so sorry."

Spencer clenched his jaw and hissed out, "Keep going, keep going."

Derek held in a laugh at the dancer's face and continued on. Spencer had been teaching him the basics of the dance for the past couple of hours. They learned the graceful bends, the rigid body form, and the short time counts. Most of the dance consisted of gliding and wide steps and dammit-Derek-what-the-hell-was-that, so all in all, it was a pain in the ass to recondition the body into dancing three count instead of four.

Spencer's foot was stepped on once more. He pulled his hands out of Derek's and placed them over his face, "Great _Gatsby_, that hurt!"

Derek sighed impatiently, "I'm sorry! This is just a little weird. It seems all swooshy, but it's all steppy and I'm getting a little confused here."

Spencer growled, "So, you take it out on my foot?!"

Derek raised his palms, "I'm not doing it on purpose, man. You have to know that by now. I'm just so close to getting it, I can taste it."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek.

Derek could barely hold back a smile at the little face and raised his hand to pinch Spencer's chin, "Aww, come on, Pretty Boy. Give me a smile."

Spencer's eyes narrowed further.

Derek tried, "Please."

Spencer didn't let up.

Derek tried again, "I'm sorry."

Spencer folded his arms and held the glare.

Derek tried a third time, "Alright, I bet I can make you laugh."

Spencer grimaced.

Derek pushed his hands out, "The Theory of Schrodinger's Cat."

Spencer's lip began to quirk up, "Don't even get me started on that load of over-publicized horse crap."

Derek prodded, "Come on. You know you want to pick it apart. Let'er rip, kid."

Spencer's lips scrunched up in an attempt to hold back his smile, "I mean the whole experiment only makes sense on paper if you squint. Boxed life, I fucking doubt it." Spencer started to grin, "I don't know. I don't know! Maybe it's because I was a Chem major and I'm like naturally biased or something. But, to me, the theory, the experiment, and the equations make me want to smack Einstien for putting his name on it. I'm going to stop myself before I start lecturing you on my hypothesis—_correct_ hypothesis, by the way."

Derek shook his head at him, "Ooh, no need for that. Talk nerdy to me, baby."

Spencer pointed a finger at him, "Reel it in."

Derek raised his palms in surrender, "Fine."

Spencer smiled cheekily, "I love how you don't fight back anymore. It shows I've won."

Derek replied, "Resistance is futile when you bat those long eyelashes at me, kitten."

Spencer glared at him, "Shut up and take my waist."

Derek sighed with exasperation clear on his face, "I thought we were going on break at 12:15! It's 12:21!"

Spencer replied, "Five, six, seven, eight."

Derek raised his hands to take Spencer's waist and they started to take a step back on Derek's left foot and a step forward on Spencer's right. One-two-three. One-two-three. One-two-three. Spencer glanced into Derek's eyes and he turned them one-eighty, waltzing Spencer back a few feet as the plain piano music kept time for them. They moved together, one of Spencer's hands on his shoulder and the other clasped gently in his. Derek nearly stepped on Spencer's foot again, and the dancer clenched his jaw, waiting for the pain. When it didn't come, he winced and looked over at Derek, "You did-"

"Ssh, man, shut your face. I think I've got it." Derek hissed.

Spencer growled over at him as they waltzed, "Don't sass your teacher."

Derek whipped back, "Sass, sass, sassity, sass."

Spencer followed as Derek led him back two steps and the music picked up in tempo, "You sure you want to do that? I'll give you a detention."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "Ooh, promise?"

Spencer pushed Derek faster into the waltz, "You're testing me."

Derek waltzed Spencer toward him, pulling the dancer in close and breaking the stride. Spencer stared at him as their faced were close, chests grazing, and hands clasped in their stance. They breathed into each other's faces for a moment as their eyes spoke. In that moment, Spencer's screamed out heat and lust and passion. Derek brought their faces even closer, saying loftily, "Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it, punk?"

Spencer whispered, "You'll find out."

Derek smiled a mischievous grin, "So scared."

Spencer pulled his hands from Derek's and turned in his embrace, placing a hand at his shoulder and one back in his as he fell back to be led once more across the floor. Derek guided him sternly with the music, getting out of his head and letting the moves guide him. He watched as Spencer's voice caught in his throat as the piano picked up and Derek waltzed him hard through the tune. Spencer licked his lips and started to blush as they danced in a cleaner, more crisp step. Their faces brought close and Derek kept his arm raised stiffly at Spencer's waist. Derek turned them sharply and pushed Spencer along the studio floor, spinning the dancer in his arms and pulling him close to waltz him quicker and quicker until Spencer's back hit the wall, head safely cradled in Derek's waiting hand. Their dancing ceased with the music and Spencer let out a shaky breath with his eyes locked on Derek's, "Okay, I get it. You know what you're doing."

Derek ran his hand up Spencer's chest from his waist and settled it on the side of his neck, "One could say that for many things."

"_Oh?_" Spencer closed his eyes and moaned out in realization, "...God."

Derek chuckled darkly, "I must be doing well."

Spencer nodded, eyes still closed, "You have a beautiful waltz, is all. It took you time to find it, but when you did..."

Derek whispered, "Fireworks."

Spencer laughed, pushing Derek away from him, "In a sense. Come on. Five more minutes and we'll go on break, I cross my heart."

Derek looked after the dancer as he walked across the floor, eyes falling south and landing on Spencer's rear that moved oh so nicely in those baggy basketball shorts that hung below his knee all loose and sexy, "Looking forward to it."

"That's not all you're looking at," Spencer replied without turning, clicking through the music library on his iPod with surety, "Pervert."

Derek whined, "How do you always _know_!?"

Spencer glanced over his shoulder, "I have eyes on the back of my head. Now get to center floor. I'm not asking twice."

"Whatever. You know you bought those shorts for me," Derek answered back sassily.

Spencer grinned with a knowing glance and clicked on a classical song, "Derek. I don't own shorts."

Derek glanced again at them, noticing their familiarity almost immediately. Those were the extras he packed last week. How did Spencer get hold of those? And why does Derek suddenly not care? They fit him so well, it was disgusting. They hung off of his hips, leaving nearly everything above his shin to the imagination. Their looseness showed off the curve of his rear. The pale grey of them flattered the vein running down the back of his legs. And, his calves? Christ. Smite him. Smite. Him. Derek doesn't know why but there's something about those hairy, well-sculpted calves that just... *shudder*. A shiver of arousal went through him as he breathed out, "I want those back, you know."

Spencer's grin widened, "You'll have to earn 'em."

* * *

Of course, when Spencer said five minutes, he meant thirty. But, Derek didn't mind. Since he had grasped the mechanics of the waltz so quickly, they had began to work out the kinks of the choreo, and that put Spencer in his little happy dancer world. Within minutes, he was almost completely inside himself, wrapped up in what was happening inside his head. This sometimes happens when Spencer choreographs. He gets really still and moves nothing but his foot, his eyes closed and a smile forming on his face. It's times like this that it hits him just how much Spencer loves what he does. Dancing is so deeply ingrained in every cell of him, and when he moves, it's like there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. He gets these little smirks and smiles, his body curls in sync and he just goes. Then, he grabs Derek and quickly tries so emulate what he had envisioned. Sometimes it works out, sometimes Spencer sits there, bopping his head up and down like a puppy as he tugged Derek along. Dancing is so natural to him, and it's beautiful when he gets into it.

At one o'clock-ish, Derek found himself following Spencer across the room to grab his water bottle and wallet out of his duffel, he asked with a raised eyebrow, "So… are we gonna have another backstory?"

Spencer panted out of tiredness, butt raised to the sky in those damned shorts as he fished around in his bag for his giant MIT sweatshirt, "Yeah. Catch is, this time, _you're_ writing it."

Derek gave Spencer's upturned rear a flat look, "Me?"

Spencer pulled the sweater out of his bag, balling it up and looking over at Derek with a red, sweaty face as he responded, "Yeah."

"But, I don't want to do it, Dr. Reid," Derek ran his finger down Spencer's neck and breathed into his ear, "I'll do anything to get out of homework. _Anything_."

Spencer pushed his hair out of his slightly red face, "I don't care, lazy ass. I need you for this. He was your dad, not mine. I won't be able to do him justice."

The two started to walk out of the studio door, and headed down the stairs. Derek complained, "I don't even understand the song yet. How am I supposed to write a backstory to it?"

Spencer said slowly as they braved the three flights, "You plug in headphones and you think really really hard until a picture comes out. Then, you tell me the picture and we'll make it work."

Derek asked, "So, I don't get a Dead Parent Pass?"

Spencer chuckled tiredly before taking a swig of his water, "No way, you're not the only one with Daddy issues."

Derek asked, "What? Did he not pay for ballet school? Get pissed when you came out or something?"

Spencer replied, "You know, he probably would have been mad at me if he didn't walk out on me and my mom before I got to tell him I was queer. And since he never paid child support, I got a scholarship to ballet school. Joffrey, actually. So, I didn't need his money anyway."

Derek's eyes widened, "Oh, my God. I'm an asshole. I'm so sorry."

Spencer waved it off with a hand as they traipsed down the steps, "Man, it's fine. You didn't know."

Derek placed his hand against Spencer's, stopping their steps, "Yeah, but I was going on and on about how great my dad was, and I didn't even think to ask. Really, it's not okay."

Spencer shrugged, "I was ten, I'm over it."

Derek added, "So was I. I'm not."

Spencer cast his eyes down, "Your father didn't want to leave you. Mine didn't see anything worth staying for, so I had no choice but to get over it. He's sleeping just fine at night, no reason I shouldn't."

Derek asked, "He's been out of your life all this time? Never made contact?"

Spencer bit his lips, "Yeah, but… I still send him tickets to all my stuff. I'm never sure, you know? Maybe one day, he'll give a shit."

Derek shook his head, "Well, he's missing out. His son became a great man without him."

Spencer pushed Derek's shoulder lightly, "Yeah, okay."

Derek smiled, "You've got three doctorates, you're a classically trained dancer featured in worldwide performances, and you've got an ass that won't quit."

Spencer started to laugh, "Shut it."

Derek grinned, "Seriously. You're kind, and patient, and selfless, and_ teach kids_—I mean, Jesus Christ, that guy's such a fucking idiot for skipping out on the chance to watch you grow up, because I know for a fact, he'd be proud of what he sees today if he stayed."

Spencer blushed, "Wow. Thank you. Now I'm blushing."

"Sorry," Derek curled his fingers around Spencer's, "Just letting you know. You don't deserve that from anyone. Especially not him."

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear. Nervous. He added, "I wouldn't be so certain. I'm far from a saint, Derek."

"Well," Derek shrugged, "If it makes you feel better, I damn sure ain't one either."

Spencer smiled up at Derek, "Good. Because…" Spencer started, glancing over to him with a plotting look on his face, "I'm gonna go powder my nose… you can come with... if you want."

Derek paused before laughing, "You're not really going to powder your nose, are you?"

"You're a handsome man with a sexy waltz who has just said one of the nicest things anybody's ever said to me. If you don't sully me now, you'll lose your chance." Spencer chuckled and grabbed Derek's wrist, dragging him into the second floor exit that they technically weren't supposed to enter. The two share the studio with three other dance couples. Emily and Hough are on the first floor, Tristan and Ashley Seaver were on the second floor, and Derek and Spencer claimed the top. When Derek asked why they were slipping into another dancer's section of the building, Spencer replied, "Tristan's the newbie, he doesn't have as many cameras as we do, and he owes me a favor."

Derek laughed quietly as they approached the studio door. "Whoa. Breaking and entering? Who _are you_?"

"Bond. James Bond," Spencer replied, suddenly gasping as they pressed their backs against the wall beside it, "Wait! The studio door's open."

Derek leaned over and glanced inside, "You're a really shitty James Bond if you didn't see this going south. I don't see anybody in there…"

Spencer let out a breath and peeked, "You never know! They could be hiding."

Derek rolled his eyes, "God, it's like you've never trespassed before."

Spencer paused, "...wait, wait. You've actually broken into a place? Like illegally?"

"Well..." Derek quieted and cleared his throat, "I kind of have a... little bit of a..." Derek rushed through the words, "_Juvinilecriminalrecord_."

Spencer's eyes widened.

"It's more of a rap sheet than a record, really. But it's been expunged! I'm squeaky clean in the eyes of the law," Derek explained.

Spencer whispered, "Dude. How many times have you been arrested?"

Derek sighed, "Just follow me. Quietly."

The two scrambled past the door and headed as quickly as they could to the end of the hall. Derek didn't know where the bathroom was on this floor, so he trusted Spencer to lead them to the right place after he got them past the door. The dancer opened and closed doors just enough so that he could see inside them. He opened about three or four until he found the one he was looking for. He grinned, "Got it!"

Derek glanced inside, "It's pink. This is the ladies' room."

Spencer tugged him into the room, "Bigger chance no one's watching it! Come on."

Derek allowed himself to be pulled in by Spencer's tiny fists as he closed the door whisper quiet, he asked, "Do you have a pipe cleaner, roll of tape, or ballet flat?"

Spencer asked confusedly, "What for?"

Derek rolled his eyes and held out his hand, "You'll see. Give me your jazz shoe out of your bag. That'll do."

Spencer took a step back, "What are you going to do with it?"

Derek reached forward, unzipped Spencer's back and rifled through it until he found the shoe. He tested it momentarily for its flexibility, and after finding it agreeable, folded it in half and shoved it under the door close to the hinge. Next, he pulled his black tee shirt over his head and padded it under the crack between the door and the floor. Derek leaned back as he stood in his white tank top and admired his handiwork, "Perfect."

Spencer blinked, "What did you just do?"

Derek shrugged, "The shoe balled up close to the bottom hinge of the door provides enough frictional force, so should the door be pushed on from the opposite side, it won't move. And my shirt will block the light, so shadows, movement, basically all visual presence of occupation is vaporized."

Spencer locked eyes with Derek as he dropped the bag unceremoniously on the floor, "I'm suddenly really scared of you, but at the same time, I'm insanely turned on."

"Good," Derek grinned and the two stumbled their way into the handicapped stall. Spencer locked it and Derek looked at him, clapping his hands once, "Alright! Let's do this thing!"

Spencer nodded, taking a shaky breath and releasing it sharply as he leaned against the door, "I'm about to kiss you. All over your face. Get ready."

Derek agreed, "I'm ready."

Spencer added, "Is tongue okay? Some people don't like it."

Derek completed, "I do."

Spencer said, "Good, because I really enjoy it, you know? It's fun and safe, but it can be kind of dirty if you play your cards right."

Derek grinned evilly, "And I want to play _your_ cards. All night."

Spencer paused, "... that made no sense."

Derek rolled his eyes, "It was a euphemism for sex."

Spencer inducted, "Oh! Right. Of course. Because you want me."

"Like crazy," Derek replied.

Spencer breathed, "And I want you too. So bad. I want you _so bad_. Oh, God. Kinda getting nervous here."

Derek blinked, "Maybe you're nervous because all of your worried chatting is making this awkward as fuck."

"It's not awkward," Spencer said, getting closer, "You just have to like…" Spencer made a weird motion with his hands, "Grab me."

Derek growled, "Why am I making the first move?"

Spencer hissed back, "Because you're the one who came up with this crazy ass deal in the first place! Now kiss me!"

Derek drew him against the pink plastic door, "Calm down, Spencer! I'm kissing you, okay?! God, give me a second."

Spencer tossed his hands in the air, "Well, finally!"

Derek pulled him close and pressed against Spencer's lithe, sweaty body, his nose bumping Spencer's as he looked into his eyes. You know what? It ain't that awkward. The hesitation is kind of a turn on now that he's thinking about it. He just doesn't really know what to touch first. Derek wants to touch everything, and he means everything. Yet, he doesn't need to go too far. What he wants is for this to be intense. Passionate. Sexy. He wants to give Spencer the time of his life, but, still leave him begging for more. Derek wants to wreck the dancer, having him panting and hard and aroused as all fuck, but he doesn't want him to tip over the edge. Derek doesn't want to give his all. Not yet. He just wants to give Spencer a taste—a bite of that poison apple. Derek slowly made up his mind, taking hold of the bottom of Spencer's thigh, covered in the slick material of his shorts, "Okay, could you… fit your leg like this?"

"Like that?" Spencer moved his leg up and hooked it around Derek's waist.

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Yeah. Wow, that's impressively high."

"Danke," Spencer blushed and glanced downward, "Oh. That… actually looks pretty hot."

Derek stepped into him and their foreheads touched, "Thanks. Alright. I'm going to do it. You ready?"

Spencer said breathlessly, eyes on Derek's, "…yeah."

He leaned in and their lips came to a soft, hesitant touch that felt like a first kiss. So innocent, so sweet. Spencer let out a moan against his lips and brought his hands to grasp the sides of Derek's face. Derek stepped in closer, pressing their chests together as their lips collided in a trio of soft kisses.

Derek smiled through the kisses as his chest started to grow tight with nerves, "Last chance to back out, kid."

"Why... on earth would I do such a stupid thing like that," Spencer answered, leaning over to kiss Derek's lips sweetly. "I am _exactly_ where I want to be." Here, in this bathroom, Derek finally has him. Spencer. Scrappy, and athletic, and sweet. He can't let this go, this feeling of completion he gets when they're close. And when they kissed... one could say sparks flew. Spencer's hands came up to pull Derek in closer by the back of his neck and the two pressed together closer and closer. Derek's heart was beating so quickly against his chest that he could feel it hammering off of Spencer's. The kiss deepened slowly as they wrapped themselves into the feeling. It feels like Derek's been holding his breath for weeks and finally, in this kiss, he can exhale. The tension is gone, the need is no longer pulsing through his veins, and now he can just enjoy it. He can enjoy Spencer.

Spencer let out a moan against his lips and pushed him back for a moment. Derek glanced at him through hooded eyes, "What… am I doing something wrong?"

"No," Spencer replied breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and pulling him down harshly for another kiss before whispering out, "This is just… incredible."

Derek let out a smirk, "That's what all the girls say."

"You're such an _ass_!" Spencer's head fell back against the stall door as he laughed out, "Why are these perfect lips attached to you_?_"

Derek winked, "Just wait until they go south, baby. They'll be better than perfect."

Spencer bit his lip and closed his eyes, "Good answer. Very good answer."

"Yeah?" Derek replied.

"Yeah, A+. Come here," Spencer nodded quickly, pulling him down again for a kiss, "So perfect," Spencer kissed his lips again and again and as Derek skirted his hand up Spencer's thigh. Spencer moaned into Derek, mashing their lips together twice as he breathed against them. Derek gave Spencer's lower lip a little bite and let out an aroused gasp at Spencer's tongue as it found its way into his mouth. He wrapped Spencer in his arms and pulled him close, feeling Spencer's hands move up to clutch at the back of Derek's smooth skull as they angled their heads and mouths to accommodate the furious tangling of their mouths. Christ, it felt amazing. Spencer was very good with his tongue, very good indeed. And that put so many dirty thoughts in Derek's mind that he feared it would never be clean again. Derek pulled the dancer's leg tighter around his waist, rubbing their hips together in a torturous slide and he could feel Spencer getting hard. Spencer keened out breathlessly, "Yeah, like that." Derek kissed him hard and obliged. Spencer let out another moan, whispering harshly, "My neck, Derek, kiss my neck. The—the right side—is more—more erogenous than the left. Please. Please do it. Don't make me beg."

Derek grinned, finally allowing himself to run his tongue along Spencer's skin for the first time. Spencer panted out his name so sweetly. He tasted like sweat and heat and sex. Perfect. The dancer was delightfully enthusiastic as Derek's beard ran against his throat. He clutched at Derek's shoulders and groaned out as Derek grabbed at his thighs, hooking the other leg around his waist so that Spencer was straddling him and at that, he pressed Spencer roughly into the door. It shook with the contact and Derek devoured the dancer's neck as if it was water in a desert. "_Oh_!" Spencer hissed out between his teeth, breathing heavily. He pushed Derek's face back up to his, kissing him roughly with lips full of pure testosterone, touching him hard, the way a woman never could.

Every time Derek ran his hands down his body, he'd blush. When his sharp jaw was kissed, he'd let out a deep keen. When Derek pushes his hands under Spencer's shirt, Spencer bites whatever lip is closest. They wrapped up into each other easily, simply. A hurry to finish, a frantic rush to orgasm. They just wanted to meld together as quickly as they could in the little moments they could steal, express all of the emotions they refused to show, kiss out all the words that they wouldn't say.

What killed Derek was that it meant nothing—to Spencer anyway. The poor kid was just riled up, and in need of release. And Derek was so gone on him, that he allowed it to happen. Whatever he can give Spencer, be it love, sex, or a shoulder to lean on, he'd give it. Whatever Spencer needed, Derek would be. So, if the dancer wanted to kiss him, Derek's lips were there and ready for him. If Spencer wanted to yell at someone, Derek would listen and take it. If Spencer needed to jump, Derek would catch him.

He pushed this and every other feeling he had into this kisses that they shared. He wrapped his arms around Spencer and held him as close as he could. They kissed and they kissed with so much passion, that Derek wanted every second to mean the world even though he knew that it didn't. Spencer just wanted sex, and well… Derek's just going to have to make sure their sex so fucking good that Spencer will never be able to get it anywhere else.

Spencer gripped Derek's tank top in his fists as he breathed a desperate sigh against his lips, "Oh, my God. Derek. Yes."

As far as he was concerned, no one will ever hold Spencer and kiss Spencer and make love to Spencer the way Derek did.

When the kid sees that, that's when Derek will truly have a chance. Derek's not just a tall, built hunk of man to just feel all over. Well, at this moment in time he was, but… shut up. Derek's got this. He has a plan. And as Spencer moaned against him once more, Derek ran his hands possessively down his body. Yeah. They're never going to be able to have sex in this tiny little stall. It can wait. But, for now...

"Harder... yeah..." Spencer panted as Derek shoved a hand between them and then pulled it away, "_Why did you stop_, jerk?! I was really into that!"

Derek grinned as Spencer smacked his chest playfully. Might as well tease the shit out of him.

* * *

Several nights later, a Friday, led Derek to stand with his hands in his pockets outside of Café Audrey. His and Spencer's moment together found them calling Tristan's bathroom their "Own Private Idaho". For the past few days, they would meet there on their break. They would kiss and hold each other and whisper soft words to each other, wrapped up in each other's embraces. They never ended up having sex, the two frustrated bastards couldn't made it past second base in that little stall, to be honest. But they loved every second of it. Toward the end, when their breaks have grown long, they get a little into it—nearly forgoing lunch to spend more time together.

But, for now, Penelope has asked him out for late night coffee again, and he fully intended to make good on it this time. She also mentioned bringing Emily over as well, which was fine with him. The night chill had set in, around seventy degrees. Where this would be glorified weather in his hometown, Derek found himself spoiled by the constant California heat. He'd keep the windows open in his hotel, the warm breeze floating in and wrapping him up like a toasty, dryer-fresh blanket. He knows he'll miss it when he moves back to rainy ol' Chicago, but, Illinois has his mom and his sisters and his dog and… that's about it. He doesn't have a girlfriend. He doesn't have a job. Hell, he doesn't even have a lease—he rents his condo. His family, he visits anyway. It wouldn't really matter to him visiting from a few cities away, or a few states.

Fuck.

This is it.

It's happening.

He's having a mid-life crisis.

Derek knew it would happen sooner or later and here it is. Moving to California? Come on, man, that's stupid. What's next? Waxing his chest, buying a Ducati, and waving flags in a San Francisco parade? He really fucking needs this coffee.

Derek's phone buzzed at his hip and he pulled it out of his pocket. He unlocked it and saw a little picture of his sister, Desiree. Notification. He read the text.

[i gotta question for ya lil bro she had sent.]

[Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. wut do u want desi]

Moments later his phone buzzed. [john proposed and hes looking for a best man. could u…]

Derek's eyes widened. [wait wait wait johnny PROPOSED!? youre getting MARRIED and you tell me through a text?!1?! i feel neglected as fuck]

[best man derek. we need one]

Derek hissed and typed back. [duh I'll do it i love dat dude. he treats u right, makes a mean omelet, and he lets me win at Mario kart. welcum to the family.]

She sent back [ur disgustingly easy to please]

Derek chuckled. [funny. ur boyfriend sed that about me 2]

[…]

[im just kiddin dez come on]

[…]

[I didn't fuck ur boyfriend I swear]

[…]

[well not this one. bruce was obviously flaming & rasheed offered]

[U SCREWED RASHEED?!11!?1!]

[oh wow look at the time]

[DEREK IM GONNA KILL U]

[i g2g byeeee]

Derek chuckled to himself and slipped the phone into his pocket. He didn't do a damned thing to Rasheed. Doesn't mean the guy didn't ask for it, though. He was one of those hero worship dudes who would do anything for their favorite baller. Including offering to blow him for an autograph. Derek gave him the autograph anyway. Getting your dick sucked by a straight guy is not as fun as porn makes it out to be. All you feel is regret and tooth marks.

Hearing a voice call from down the street, Derek lifted his head and watched as the bubbly Penelope dragged along the dark haired goth. They had several bags in their hands as they approached him, and Derek replied, "I was standing here for twenty minutes waiting for you two."

Emily replied with a black lipped smile, "We were going to be on time, but then shoes happened."

Penelope grinned, "There's a boutique down the street and they were having a crazy sale on kitten heels. Total score."

Derek blinked, "Kitten heels?"

Penelope explained, "They're like small pumps."

Derek made a face, "You mean the shit that puts air in your tires?"

Emily laughed, "Oh, goodness."

Derek sighed, "I'm confused and uncomfortable."

Penelope reached in a bag and pulled out a box, opening it to reveal two pink, shiny formal shoes with a small heel on the end and a bow at the top, "See? Kitten heels."

Derek glanced over it, "I don't see any kittens."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Men."

Derek sputtered, "Men?! Women are the weird ones. How do you even spend forty minutes in a store?"

Penelope gasped, "How could you not?"

Derek shrugged, "Easy. Order online."

Penelope paused, "Oh. Well…"

"Yeah," Derek complained, "Now, let's stop talking about shoes before I grow boobs."

Emily glanced down at Derek's feet as they walked into the café, "Well, _you_ have nice shoes on. You have no room to talk."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "They're not shoes, they're sneaks. And yeah, I know how bomb these are. They're vintage Jordans. Cost an arm and a leg."

The two walked over to a table and sat down, Penelope planting herself beside Derek while Emily took the seat in front of them. Penelope replied, "So, you can't judge."

Derek chuckled, "I totally can. These are masterpieces, totally different from that frilly shit. Those things on your feet—those heels—are glittery Chinese water torture."

Emily laughed, "But, they're cute."

Derek shrugged, "On some. I prefer a girl dressed down. Nothing like a woman wearing a tank and yoga pants. Mmm."

Penelope nodded, "Yoga pants, huh? You're a butt guy?"

Derek let out a laugh, "Oh, hell yeah. All day, every day. How about y'all? What on a guy makes you poor women come running?"

Emily replied, "The eyes. I'm a sucker for a man with really nice eyes."

Derek winked, "Do I have nice eyes?"

She giggled, "Yeah. They're okay."

Derek licked his lips with a flirty smile, "Oh, alright. I see. I see."

Emily shook her head, "No offense, but Doc's eyes are way cuter."

Derek paused, a sinking feeling erupting in his chest. Yeah, so what? Spencer had cute eyes. It's not up to her to judge. He asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Emily answered, "It means that he has cute eyes. He's a nice looking boy, you have to admit."

Derek narrowed his eyes, "Yeah, so?"

Emily started back at him, "Why so defensive Derek?"

"He's probably offended by the lack of attention," Penelope explained with a giggle, pinching Derek's cheek briefly, "Doc having nice eyes doesn't mean you're any less handsome, Chocolate Thunder."

Derek shrugged that off, "Oh, I don't need her to tell me I look good. I'm just wondering why Spencer came up in conversation."

"Eww," Emily gave Penelope a funny look, "Why do you call him '_Spencer'_?"

Derek replied, "That's his name."

Penelope added, "It's kind of weird."

Derek rolled his eyes, "He doesn't mind."

"Of course he doesn't," Penelope and Emily began to giggle girlishly.

Derek looked around confusedly. The waiter came to take their order and stopped at the table, "Hello, my name is Nathan, I'll be your server today and—oh, my God. You're Emily Prentiss."

She raised her hand, "Born and raised, kid. Can I get a White Russian? I'm in the mood for some kick. Hold the olives."

He gulped and pulled at his uniform tie, "Y-yeah, Emily Prentiss. Whatever you want."

Penelope raised her hand, "I'll take a virgin strawberry daiquiri."

Derek added, "And I'll have an Americano black."

The waiter cleared his throat nervously, nodding and writing their orders down before looking up at Emily adoringly, "Would it be too much to ask you to sign this order sheet for me?"

Emily laughed and held out her hand, "Hand it over, Nate."

The waiter blanched and breathed out as he ripped out the sheet and gave it to her, "Y-you called me Nate."

Emily placed the paper on the table and pulled a pen out of her purse, "Sure did."

The waiter began to laugh nervously, "Oh, my God."

As she uncapped the pen and scribbled on the paper, he added, "I've been listening to your music since I was in high school. 'Fuck the Government' got me through my midterms this semester at UCLA and your newest CD is just… wow. Brilliant. I love your band. Like, really. I love your band. I got my girlfriend into you guys, and she loves you guys too. It's just—"

Emily finished her signature and smiled up at him with a huge grin, "Thanks, kid. Wanna know a secret?"

Nathan nodded his blonde head, mouth opening and near closing with adoration, "Anything, Emily Prentiss."

Emily leaned closer to him, "I wrote 'Fuck the Government' on a napkin while drunk at the bar two blocks from here back in '07."

The waiter's eyes widened, "No way."

She winked, "And I'm really, really… _really_ craving a White Russian right now," she paused and gave Server Nathan a look over, "Your surname wouldn't happen to be Krushnic, would it?"

"Did you just hit on me?"

Emily gave him an unreadable stare, "Maybe I did."

Nathan laughed nervously, "Your order! I'm so sorry." Nathan grinned and raised the paper as she handed it to him, "Coming right up, Emily Prentiss. I love you."

Emily replied as he scurried off, "I know."

Penelope nudged her, "Well handled. You made him feel special, satisfied his desires, and got him out of your face in under two minutes. I should have taken notes."

Derek leaned back in his seat, "I know, right? Usually, I'm held up for at least five. At least he didn't want any pictures."

Emily smiled widely, "Yes, he did. He just got one from between the kitchen doors… now he's taking a selfie, trying to get both of us in the same frame."

Penelope laughed and glanced over at the kitchen, "Oh, my God. Now he's showing the cooks."

Derek looked over his shoulder, "Kids are hilarious."

Penelope gave Derek a flat look, "Oh, don't exclude yourself from the human race. How would you react if you met Beyoncé in a bar?"

Derek added, "I'd be very smooth and polite and she'd remember the shit out of me."

Emily laughed, "Yeah, because your face is plastered all over the news for doing the world's sexiest tango with the Prince of Ballroom."

Derek grimaced, "So what? Yeah, I did a little dude-on-dude action. Beyoncé would think it was hot."

"Would her husband?" Penelope giggled and pushed at Derek's shoulder from across the table.

Derek shrugged, "I don't give a fuck. Jay Z can get it too."

Emily laughed aloud, "You're funny. I like you."

Derek let out a big grin, "I like you too. When our drinks get here, we'll toast!"

Penelope added, "Sounds great!"

Minutes later, their drinks arrived and the three newfound friends chatted about the competition. Away from the ballroom, Emily was really a cool girl. Penelope and her got along famously, and had planned a shopping trip before the coffee date and they enjoyed each other's company so much that they planned another right there at the table. Derek was asked to join in and he declined. No fucking way he's signing up for hours in a boutique with two women. No matter how wonderful they are at coffee.

Derek asked Penelope how Gleb was doing, and she swooned over his muscles for about four minutes straight. He next asked Emily about Hough and she rolled her eyes, replying, "He's a major hard ass. Seriously. I don't know how he dances so well with that stick lodged up there."

Penelope and Derek laughed.

She joked, "It's taken up private residence in his colon, man, I swear."

Penelope chuckled, "Well, Gleb's incredible. All he has to do is smile, and I'll dance him to the moon. I don't understand your plight."

Emily's eyebrows quirked and she looked over at Derek, "How's _Spencer_? Is he insane too?"

Derek felt his face heat up at the mention of Spencer's name. Now he knows how weird it sounds when he uses it in public. It just sounds so… intimate. He replied, "Insane? He passed insane two weeks ago. I call him Kim Jong Il behind his back."

The girls broke into laughter and Emily added, "Oh, my God. You're kidding."

Derek snickered, "Nope. Ask my mom."

Penelope grinned, "Yeah, he's crazy about dance, but he's a lot easier to deal with away from the studio floor, right?"

Derek nodded, "By oceans. He's just really passionate about the art of it all, you know? It must be difficult teaching some newbie what he's spent years perfecting because of how much he loves it. God, you should see him sometimes when he's choreographing something. It's like he's in his own little world, and... it's like nothing could ever bother him. Like dancing is just as much a part of him as his left arm. I respect the shit out of him, and that's probably why he walks all over me like I have a Welcome Mat on my forehead. But, I don't mind. I really don't. All he has to do is ask and I'm doing whatever it is he wants. It's… why are you two staring at me like that?"

Penelope shook her head, "Look at him, Em. It's almost sad."

Emily replied, "There has to be some sort of charity we can give to that helps guys like him."

Derek blinked, "What are you talking about?"

Penelope raised her hands to the sky, "It's not up to us to tell."

Derek took a sip of his coffee and shrugged, slowly running out of fucks to give, "I have something on my face, don't I?"

Penelope added, "Something like that."

* * *

As the coffee date ended, the three stood outside the shop. Penelope walked a few feet away to hail a cab and left the goth singer and the football player to make small talk about the weather. That lasted a few mere seconds before Emily leaned into Derek, asking, "So… is Doc available?"

Derek snapped his head over to her, "Available how?"

"Like… _single_ available," She shrugged, face growing a bit red, "I don't know. He's a nice guy. Cute, funny, speaks Russian. God, I mean… I just wanted to know if it was hopeless."

Derek clenched his jaw, "It's hopeless."

Emily asked, "Is he married?"

Derek shook his head, "No."

Emily inquired, "Is he dating anyone?"

Derek grimaced, "Not technically."

Emily gasped and replied, "Oh, so there is _someone_?"

Derek sighed, eyes darting away from hers, "…not technically."

Emily folded her arms, "You are giving me seriously mixed up messages, dude. Is there a girl in the picture, or not?"

Derek replied, "There's not a _girl_ in the picture, no."

Emily wrinkled her brow, "So, there's a man?"

Derek sighed, "You are putting a lot of pressure on me, okay, lady?"

She asked, "How?"

Derek spilled quickly, "He's in a no-strings thing, okay? And that man wants more, but since Spencer doesn't, he's pretending to be content with the current arrangement. So, technically, you have no competition, but in the eyes on the other man, you do. Does that make sense?"

Emily chuckled, "God _damn_ are you into him."

Derek groaned, "You weren't interested this whole time, were you?"

She made a face, "Heck naw. Doc? Eww, man. Just… eww. Not my type. I've been digging at you all night to see if the whole Team Moreid thing was real. Seems like it is."

Derek sighed, "Not—"

"Technically?" Emily finished with a giggle, "Man, _technically_, you two are so into each other, it's disgusting. No strings? Seriously? What is this, University?"

Derek added, "Spencer thought it was a great idea."

Emily shrugged, "So did my ex no-strings-thing, before we got in a fight and he stabbed me."

Derek blinked rapidly, "D-did you say he stabbed you?"

Emily replied, "What? You act like I didn't stab him back."

Derek gave a concerned face, "You two stabbed _each other_?"

"Ian was such a fucking asshole. He had it coming." Emily answered, "Couldn't express his feelings like a real man."

Derek never expressed his feelings because he was so afraid of how it would turn out, and Spencer needed pliers and duct taped limbs to admit that his partner doesn't suck completely. But Spencer would never stab him… would he? Derek stared off past her, "…fuck."

* * *

**A/N: This is me apologizing for the feels that are coming next week. ****It's going to be sad. Real sad. ****I'm so sorry that I'm apologizing in advance.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

_P.S. I just found out that this story was nominated for a Profiler's Choice Award in the category of Best Crossover and I'm speechless. Like wow. Thanks. Seriously. I've been following them for a decent bit, and this is just the best news ever. __I'm flailing you guise. __For realsies. __Whichever one of you cute lil fuckers nominated me, c'mere. You've just earned yourself a suffocating boob hug. And all of you that keep reading and reviewing with me every week, y'all get boob hugs too. It's just a boob hug love fest up in this bitch, alright?_

_On a more serious note, I am so happy and so honored and so blessed, and I just love y'all so much. I'm super grateful for all of the support. Seeing your reviews every week makes my day, and I'm doing this all for you, you know? I spent all that time off of this site working my butt off so that I could give you this little keysmash piece of shit and you guys just hugged me and told me it was worth the wait, so yeah. Thank you. This is for you guys, dolls, and everything in between._

_If you will excuse me, I'm off to celebrate with ice cream and strippers. *salute*_

_**NOW, IT'S TIME TO VOTE ME UP, YOU SEXY PROFILING SONS OF BITCHES**! **THIS IS THE BIG LEAGUES, MAN**! **THUG LIFE**! **RIDE OR DIE**! **WHAT TEAM**?! **WILDCATS**!** WHAT TEAM**?! **WILDCATS**! **WHAT TEAM**?! **BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS WILDCATS**! **GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME**!_


	10. The Story of Us

**A/N: I'm sorry in advance for the long-assness of this chapter. It's like 15K. I mean, holy fucking Jezebel. How did it get that long?!**

**Love,**

**Blue**

_**TW: MENTIONS OF NON-CON, RAPE, AND DRUG ABUSE in this chapter that may be triggering!**_

* * *

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER TEN: The Story of Us

Derek knocked heavily on the skinny wooden door over and over again in as frantic a state as he could summon.

He needed to get inside.

He needed to tell Spencer how he felt.

After hearing the Great Stabbing Story from Emily, Derek was in divine haste to change their fates. No matter how bad things get, Derek knows he'll never stab Spencer—hell, Jordan was living proof that a significant other couldn't bring him to homicide. But, he has no knowledge that Spencer won't pull out a sharp one and make Derek bleed if things don't go his way. He doesn't know this man. Spencer could just be a really, _really_ cute ex-con, or sociopath, or serial killing drug dealer.

Derek pounded harder and the door suddenly opened. A topless bearded man with kind brown eyes, a blindfold loose around his neck, and a sweating Bud in his hand gave Derek a strange look, "Where's the fire, mah man—oh, yew mus' be Derek."

Derek gave the strange look back, "And you are..."

The bearded man smiled, holding out his dry hand, "Ethan."

Derek's heart dropped to his feet and he's pretty sure his face fell too. The guy's actually kind of hot in a fuzzy, loose, college professor sort of way. Derek wouldn't do him, but Spencer would. Well, he _did_ apparently for a good while. And, of course, Ethan's blindfolded, drinking a beer at Spencer's place with his shirt off, because it's totally cool. They're buds. They aren't fucking anymore. Right? Because guys usually walk around half naked in their ex's apartment.

He took the offered hand, "Yeah, hi. You're right. I'm Derek. Spencer's dance partner."

Ethan grasped the hand and shook it with a bigger smile on his face, pulling Derek in for a sudden man-hug and clap on the back, "Hey, thank God yer 'ere. I was tryna rope that sorry bast'rd into watchin' the Lakers game, an' he won't budge. I could use the extra 'partment vote."

Derek nodded slowly, easing away from the creepily friendly stranger, "Okay…"

Ethan guided him into the house, closing the door behind him, "Hey, man, you wan'a beer?"

Derek nodded once more, "Okay…"

Ethan disappeared into the kitchen and Derek heard the refrigerator open. Well, this guy was very smiley. And very shirtless. Derek raised his chin a bit, not at all uncomfortable with it. If they were doing a topless thing over here, that was fine with him. Derek has a great body. He should know. He's spent a decent amount of time sculpting it and even more maintaining it. He's nowhere near as spindly as that guy. Derek nearly rolled his eyes as those words crossed his mind. "Spencer's ex"… ugh. Derek thinks he should just hate him on principle, even though the dude did nothing to him but invite him in and offer him a beer.

Whatever. Derek's still on guard. There's no way he's going to get his little love declaration in today with friggen _Ghost of Boyfriend's Past_ over here walking around with his sexy Deep South accent like "Remember meeeee?". Dick.

Ethan popped back into the room, shoving the chilled can in Derek's hand, "So, what's up, mah man? What's goin' on?"

Derek leaned against the door and punched open the cap with his thumb, twanging out, "Nothing much. Just wanted to ask Spencer something… I can come back later for that though… it seems I should."

Ethan laughed loudly, "Wuh? Cuz I'm 'ere? Man, don't worry 'bout it. I won't be in you guys's little '_dancer space_'. I understan' it's a sacred connection and shit."

"I hear you, you fucker! You're close! I know it!" Spencer walked warily into the room with his hands out, searching, and a piece of fabric over his eyes. Oh, great. He was also topless. And pantless. In a pair of boxers, an open cardigan, and one sock. No. No, no, no. While the sight of Spencer nearly naked in front of him without a shirt on for the first time ever was welcomed this was clearly not the context he was hoping for.

Ethan glanced over at Spencer and whispered to Derek, "We're playin' Naked Hide and Seek."

Derek blinked rapidly, "N-naked Hide and Seek?"

Ethan shrugged, "Yeah, it's based off this show on… well… main point is tuh win the game over and over again, 'cause every time someone find yew, yew lose an article 'a clothin'."

Derek glanced back at Spencer, "God, look at him. He's shit at it. This guy layers like an eskimo."

Ethan cackled, "I know, right! It's hilarious. Check this out." Ethan shouted and waved, "Hey, Dumbass! I'm over 'ere!"

Spencer made a face and stuck his hands out in front of him, clearly headed in the wrong direction, "I'm gonna get you this time. I swear!"

Ethan yelled, "Yah almos' got me! Oh, no!"

Spencer grinned and he bumped into a chair, his knees getting tangled up in the legs as he toppled to the ground, "God, fuck you, Ethan!"

Ethan laughed and pointed, "Man, yew suck. Gimmie the sock."

"I'm not giving you the damn sock! You knew I would bump into the chair, you freak," Spencer growled, ripping the cloth over his eyes and looking right up at Derek. He blinked and his jaw dropped. Then the blushing started, "Oh… fuck. Derek! You're in my kitchen! You're... in my kitchen..." Spencer grabbed at the hanging tablecloth and covered his chest, waving his hands around as he scrambled up and explained, "This is not what it looks like!" Spencer wrapped his arms around his slender body, dropped the tablecloth, and scampered out of the room through the hallway, "I can explain, I swear! Let me get clothes on! I promise you, I'm not fucking him. I swear. This looks so bad!"

Derek watched the whole spectacle with a confused tilt of his head. He looked over at Ethan and the bearded man shrugged, "He's always been a spaz. Jus' let him get it outta his system."

Before Derek could respond, Spencer was stumbling back into the room with a baggy pair of grey sweatpants barely fitting his hips as he shoved a blue sweatshirt over his rumpled haired head, "We were playing a game, I swear. I know it's weird, but I wasn't expecting company. I'm sorry you had to see that I just… I'm sorry."

Derek raised his eyebrows and gestured toward himself, "Why are you apologizing to me? It's not I'm your boyfriend or something."

Spencer shrugged, "I don't know. I just didn't want you to think Ethan and I were still involved, because he's married, and it would be wrong, and I mean… come on. Look at him and look at you. Major downgrade."

Ethan made a face, "Hey!"

Derek continued, "Well, I showed up unexpected. I really should have called."

Spencer shrugged him off, "Ethan hid my phone. It wouldn't have done anything."

Ethan pulled Spencer's dated flip phone out of his back pocket and tossed it at him.

Spencer caught it, "Well… it would have now."

Derek shifted uncomfortably.

"Anyway," Spencer waved his hand between the two bearded men in his kitchen, "Derek, meet Ethan; my best friend, confidant, and ex-lover."

Derek raised his hand in greetings, "Hi."

Spencer finished, "Ethan, meet Derek; my dance partner, friend, and fuck buddy."

Ethan added, "Fuck buddies? Yeah, that's gonna end _great_."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Brilliant contribution, Ethan David, brilliant. Unparalleled. Too bad I don't give a shit."

Ethan picked up a sponge from the sink behind him and lobbed it at Spencer, hitting him square in the chest, "Shut up, dick."

Spencer caught it at his waist and tossed it back, missing the throw, "Make me, jerk!"

"Look at that 'orrible aim! Yew throw like a girl, which is prob'ly why yer so damn loud in bed," Ethan turned to him and gestured at Spencer, "Dude's shrill as fuck. Makes you wanna invest in earplugs. So not worth the lay, mah man."

Spencer gasped, "Take that back!"

Ethan continued, "Beware, D'rek, his love noises are sum weird-ass mix of a Chihuahua in heat and a woman goin' through natural labor."

Spencer glanced at Derek, "He's lying."

Ethan mimicked him, making cheesy moaning noises, "Uh! Uh! Harder! Yes, oh, my God!"

"Fuck you!" Spencer rushed over and smacked a hand over his mouth with one hand, hitting his arm repeatedly with the other. Ethan started to laugh from behind the hand and before seconds passed, Spencer shoved him away and joined in with his chuckles.

Derek blinked, "Okay?"

* * *

And that's how NFL's MVP Derek Morgan of the Chicago Bears ended up on the couch watching Hell's Kitchen next to the man of his dreams and a half naked, snoring Music professor. Derek paused and glanced over at Spencer as Gordan Ramsay yelled at someone for putting too much grease in the fryer. Or too many fries in the greaser—Derek couldn't tell at this point. The dancer had his bare feet up on the couch and laughed as the man screamed into the girl's face.

Derek gulped and started to speak, "Spence—"

"Shh!" Spencer hurried, reaching over with one hand to press his finger against Derek's mouth with his eyes glued to the screen, "TV...oh, wow."

Spencer reached over and replaced his finger with his lips for a quick kiss, pushing his face away with a solid pat, "Mmm, I'll never get tired of those lips."

Derek paused as Spencer leaned back against the couch, laughing at the scene as Gordon threw something in anger. Derek blinked. Okay, so he got kissed. But, he still has to wait. That's fine. All he has to do it be patient until the commercial comes on. Any other time, commercials would take centuries to come, but it seemed to flicker across the telly at the speed of light. And there Derek was. Beside Spencer with the words 'how about we do this for real', 'be my man', 'choose me' and 'I want you' all on the tip of his tongue. But, of course, there was no way those words were going to force their way out of Derek's mouth.

He opened it and then closed it, doing a fairly genius impression of a fish before breathing out, "So… Spencer."

The dancer turned, all big brown eyes, a supple pink lipped smile, and fuzzy curls, "Yep?"

Spencer's beauty has once again bitchslapped him. Hard. The words as expected fell out of Derek's mouth in a pile of stutters and unintelligible sounds, "Uhh..."

Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes, "Dude, stop playing with me and hand me the chips."

Derek nodded and cursed himself, biting his lips and grabbing the bag of Doritos in shame.

Spencer reached for the bag and Derek pulled the bag back, "I came here to tell you something."

"No shit, I thought you came here for the view. Chips…" Spencer replied, hands still making small grabbing motions toward the Cool Ranch.

Derek pulled the bag back further, "I… I just wanted to say. I—I wanted to say that I think that… I think that we—we being you and I—should maybe… you know… it would be great if you considered us being…"

Spencer dropped his hands into his lap and his face drew serious, "Considered us being what?"

Derek shrugged and scratched behind his ear, "Man, I don't know. It was dumb. How about we forget I said anything?"

Spencer raised his hand in disagreement, "No, no. You wanted to speak. I respect that. What was it?"

"I was just saying that maybe…" Derek mumbled, "youcouldbemyboyfriendorsomethingidon'tknow…"

Spencer narrowed his eyes, leaning toward him, "I didn't get that."

Derek growled out, "Jesus Christ! Screw the rules, man. Screw that dumb agreement! I can't take it anymore. I really like you! Fucking _date me_, dude!"

Spencer blinked, "Date you? Why?"

Derek shrugged, "I don't know. You like kissing me. You like talking to me. You like dancing with me. Hell, I think you may like _me_."

Spencer folded his arms, "Don't flip this around. You're the one who's asking me out."

Derek clenched his jaw, "What? You don't like me?"

Spencer said unflinchingly, "Quite the contrary, I adore you. That doesn't mean I should throw caution to the wind and give you a title."

Derek's lip twitched in a small smile and he spoke out, "You _adore_ me?"

Spencer glared, "Don't get cocky."

Derek asked, "Then why not go for it?"

Spencer slowly became more reserved, pushing his hair behind his ear nervously, "… I'm… I don't know, a little gunshy. I've been down the relationship road before and strictly sex… it's not as messy. Nothing gets broken. Hearts or… other things. You get me?"

Derek paused, "… wow. Someone really must have done you wrong."

Spencer scoffed, "_Someone_? More like everyone. No offense, but I can't trust you. Not like that. Not yet."

Derek smiled a bit, "I get what you're saying."

Spencer sighed shakily and shifted to curl up at Derek's side, "Sorry for being such a weirdo. I just need time, you know? It's been what? Three weeks? You're a stranger."

Derek added, "Nearly four."

"A month!" Spencer chuckled, "Whoa. Stop the world. I wanna get off."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "You wanna _get off_?"

Spencer laughed and shoved into Derek's side, "I didn't mean it like that."

Derek asked, "So, you _don't_ want to get off?"

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear and looked up at Derek, "Well, that's just plain false…"

Derek looked Spencer over, "Do you want to get off… with me?"

Spencer blushed and stammered, "Well, duh. I mean, come on. Who would blame me? Look at you. Jesus. You're like a fucking sex god. What are you doing? Existing like that. It's a pain in the ass!"

Derek chuckled at him, "Whoa! Sex god?"

Spencer whimpered and pushed his face into Derek's chest, "Mmm, I just want to curl up and die. Right here. Against your abs."

Derek laughed, "You're right. You are a weirdo."

Spencer murmured something else quietly, wrapping his arms around Derek and looking up at him, "So, you're not mad at me for turning you down?"

Derek shook his head, "No way. I get your point. I'm sorry for trying to rush you. Emily just told me this story about her side-guy stabbing her, so I had to run over and change our fates."

Spencer mumbled against his shirt, "And you call me weird."

Derek shrugged and wrapped an arm around Spencer, "Yes, I do. And I—"

"Wait!" Spencer let his hand trail up and down Derek's stomach lazily as he said into his shirt, "Me and your abs are having a moment. A beautiful, sexy moment."

Derek chuckled, "I'll give you a time to collect your thoughts then."

Spencer smiled, rubbing his face into the cloth, "Why do you even wear these? Shirts. They're pointless things, really. An ancient technology the human race has created to make us feel as if our bodies are private and uncouth to show, when in all actuality, they're quite extraordinary in their uniqueness. There is no reason we should be afraid to be who we are! We should express ourselves with nudity! These are our cells, our genetic make up and we should be damn proud of them!"

"Nice thesis, Doctor," Derek asked with a flirty smile he knew Spencer couldn't see.

Spencer chuckled, "In conclusion, you should take off your shirt. For science. _And_ because I want to lick your chest like a starving man would lick an empty plate of food… but mostly for science."

Derek laughed out, "You one-track minded son of a bitch. In how many languages are you going to ask me to sleep with you until you feel shame?"

Spencer looked up at Derek with large, brown eyes as he whispered in a husky voice, "Deberías dejarme tocar tu pene."

Derek winked, "I don't know what you just said to me, but whatever it was, I liked it."

Spencer chuckled deeply, "Oh, Derek, trust. You will. Now what was it you were saying before your abs and I so rudely interrupted you?"

Derek shrugged, "Nothing really. I was just going on and on about how much I like you, and even though we spend ridiculous amounts of time together, I wish we had more so that I could spend it all in your presence. You know, garbage."

Spencer furrowed his brow, "That's one thing I just _don't_ understand about you. You're so cool, and suave, and sexy. You could have anyone you want. Why me?"

Derek shrugged, "Why _not_ you?"

Spencer replied, "You have no idea who I am. Other than the fact that I smack you around six days a week, and the masochist in you gets off on it."

Derek let out a smile, "You're right. I don't know you that well. That's why I want to date you. So, I'll _get_ to know you."

Spencer nuzzled back against Derek's chest, "You won't like what you find."

Derek replied, "The more you delve into me, man, neither will you. But I'm asking… try me."

Spencer glanced up at Derek and pressed his face into the baller's neck, "Maybe."

Derek spoke with a small grin as Spencer kissed at the skin under his jaw, "Ooh, do I have to earn it?"

Spencer chuckled into Derek's neck, kissing it tentatively once more, "Mmm, yeah."

"Okay. Okay, I can deal with that. Just a little warning though…" Derek wrapped his arm tighter around Spencer and buried his nose into Spencer's hair, "I'm an overachiever."

Spencer burst into a laugh, moving a hand up over his mouth to hide his beaming grin, "Oh, wow."

Derek shook his head, "Don't cover that smile. It's my favorite thing about your laugh. You show like all your teeth, kid, who does that?"

Spencer looked up at him from behind his hand, still laughing, a small nasal snorting surprising them both.

Derek added, "And the geeky snort. It's kind of cute."

Spencer rolled his eyes as his laughter started to quell. He wrapped his arms tighter around Derek's waist, "Nobody likes the snort, dude. Why are you acting so nice?"

Derek shrugged, "Well, it's all an elaborate ploy to get in your pants. I've been lying to you all this time. My name isn't even Derek. It's Bonquisha Sharise."

Spencer chuckled and shoved at Derek's shoulder, "I knew it. You never really looked like a 'Derek'."

Derek grinned, "Aww, damn. Better work on my bluffing."

Spencer laughed, "Shut up and kiss me."

Derek winked, "That can be arranged."

Spencer closed his eyes and Derek looked down at the man leaning against his chest, so warm and pliant in his arms as he waited for Derek to reach over and kiss him. He let his hand fall to Spencer's pale cheek and leaned forward, capturing those pillowy pink lips in a soft, slow kiss. Derek felt Spencer's shoulders slowly fall. He wasn't expecting that. Then again, Spencer never really expects what happens—he's often surprised by life. Not always pleasantly surprised, Derek's afraid. But, now… it seems as if he is.

Pulling his lips from Derek's, he opened his eyes slowly, breath ghosting against Derek's mouth as he spoke, "I thought it was just your lips at first. Like maybe they were special or something, but it's not that. It's just... no one… no one's ever kissed me like you kiss me. I can't explain it, but, it just feels different when you do it. _Good_ different, I mean."

"Do you mean like this?" Derek kissed him once more, brushing his thumb under Spencer's eye soothingly.

Spencer breathed with a smile, "Yeah. Like that. No one kisses me like that."

Derek touched his forehead to Spencer's, "Well, I don't kiss no one else like that. Why? Is it a bad thing?"

Spencer closed his eyes, "No… it's perfect."

Derek smiled softly back at him.

Spencer continued, "It feels like… ah, man, I don't know. It just feels like everything I need right now, it feels right. Does that make any sense?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah. I'm feeling it too."

Spencer reached up to push his hair behind his ear and Derek pushed it back for him, leaning forward to close the space between them. The dancer reached up and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, pulling him closer. The kiss transformed into something slow building and hot and lazy and sweet. Their bodies collided and Spencer swung a leg over Derek's to straddle him, hands clasped on Derek's jaw as they kissed, refusing to part their lips. Derek placed his hands respectfully at Spencer's hips, and Spencer let out a soft squeak at the touch, chuckling to himself before diving back into the kiss. Derek raised one hand to bury in Spencer's hair and the dancer moaned softly into his lips before pressing himself closer. Kid his the nail on the head back there. Derek doesn't kiss anyone like this. But, then again, no one kisses him back like Spencer does. All slow, yet passionate, yet full of energy. It's intoxicating.

The hand Derek left at Spencer's hip was slowly traveling downward, making a tentative journey to his ass. Derek prayed he'd make it there. Spencer, handsy little bastard, was running his fingers down Derek's chest, shoulders, back, neck, face. Two more inches to his ass. Two and a half… two and three quarters…

Spencer pulled his knees into the couch, locking their hips and grinding a little. Oh, alright. Now, they usually make out like teenagers in Tristan's bathroom, but this was kind of new. Not that Derek's bitching about it, and Spencer's _definitely_ far from starting a complaint box. Derek starting tugging on Spencer's curls and his hand was so close to that ass. Nearly there. Barely even an inch left. Downward… downward… yes! Sweet cushiony perfection! He squeezed a little, reveling in the fact that Spencer wasn't pushing him away from this beautiful, beautiful ass. Derek nearly chuckled in glee.

Derek felt like he needed something to remember this landmark event by. His hand was on Spencer's butt. Fucking success. And it was a nice butt too. Real nice. Felt as good as it looked. He can die happy at this point. Derek felt Spencer smile against his lips and it was like the dancer was reading his mind. Yeah, so what? His goal was to cop a feel. Get at him.

Derek felt something kick against his leg testily, "Are yew two flamin' homosexuals tongue fuckin' each other while I'm still on the couch?"

"Deal with it, jerk," Spencer moved his lips from Derek briefly before placing them back against his and moaning comically.

Derek laughed into the kiss, placing both of his hands back at Spencer's hips.

Spencer grabbed his left hand and placed it back on his butt, "Hey, I never said we were finished here."

Derek gave him a shocked stare.

Spencer rolled his eyes, moving closer, "Now, come on. Let's get back to the whole pulling my hair, grabbing my ass combo. That felt real nice."

Ethan wiped a hand against his eyes tiredly before complaining, "Dude!"

Spencer moodily glared back, "Feel free to leave. You're not paying rent, you didn't bring food, and you're not engaging anyone in conversation. There's literally no reason for you to be here."

Ethan grimaced, "Fuck off. I was watching TV."

Spencer replied, "You were watching the inside of your eyelids, you old fart. I'm not going to wait for your crotchety ass to wake up, so, yeah. I'm going to start making out with this hot guy right here. What are you going to do about it?"

Ethan made a face, "Kick your ass for starters."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "I actually have purchase of his ass right now, so… pick something else."

Ethan grimaced, folding his arms, "Fine. I'll get him where it hurts."

Spencer's face fell, "You wouldn't dare."

Ethan stood and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a Sharpie.

"He's asking to die," Spencer mused, looking down at Derek and explaining, "This man wants death. Derek, look and look hard. This is what suicide looks like."

Ethan continued to walk toward Spencer's life sized TARDIS and uncapped the marker.

Spencer yelled out in a voice so harsh, Derek's only heard it once when he almost dropped him during rehearsal, "If you harm a hair on that TARDIS, I swear to God, I am going _back_ to prison!"

Derek paused, "Back to prison? Wait, you've been before?"

Spencer ignored him and continued, "Ethan, I swear to God. I will plead guilty and dance on your grave when I get out."

Derek added, "I'm still stuck on the 'you've been to prison' part."

Ethan hovered over the TARDIS's blue paint with the marker, showing no signs of letting up.

Spencer shot him an angered look and hissed, shoving himself off of Derek's lap, "You know what, fine. Whatever. You happy now?"

Ethan grinned, "Very."

Spencer scoffed, folding his arms indignantly on the couch, "I'll just hook up with him later."

Ethan capped the marker, "Good. At least 'ave the decency to do it when I ain't around."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "At least have the decency not to be jealous it's not you anymore."

Ethan raised his eyebrows and his face drew into a serious stance as he headed toward the couch. He hissed angrily walked past Spencer. Uh, oh. Too far. He grabbed his white shirt off of the edge of it.

Spencer sighed, "Wait, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, yew did," Ethan grimaced, shoving his arms into it.

Spencer leaned over the couch, "Seriously, I didn't! I was just playing."

Ethan shook his head, "Yeah, but we don't play 'bout that."

Spencer's eyebrows drew up as he pleaded, "Come on, you can't actually be getting mad about this."

"A'course, I can! I don't 'ave _feelings_ for yew! Not anymore, since I realiz'd that to keep yew happy, everything's gotta be about yew," Ethan finished.

Spencer lowered his eyes to the floor, "No, it doesn't."

Ethan started to button up his shirt, "Yes. It does. Poor 'lil genius Reid. Yer dad doesn't want yew and yer mom starved yew of attention. Boo hoo. So, yew used me for it. Then I fell in love with yew and yew couldn't have that, so yew pushed me away and used Toby instead. And Toby? _Wrong_ choice. The asshole just used yew back and yew weren't used tuh that, because it pushed yew over the edge, didn't it? So, now ya dance and prance all over the place, beggin' people to look at yew again, 'cause that's whatcha want. Yew just want to be looked at. Well, here we are looking atcha, Spencer. Is that what yew need? Are yew happy now?"

Spencer pulled his lips into his mouth and pointed at the door, saying quietly, "Get out."

Ethan stopped buttoning his shirt when he had three left undone, "But, I don't understan'. Yew called me over here just so we could talk about yew and yer problems and yer sad 'lil life. We're talking and now yew don't want to hear it?"

Spencer sniffed and reinforced his pointing finger.

Ethan rolled his eyes, "Put that hand down, we both know yew don' mean it."

Spencer didn't move.

"I'm the only one that really knows ya. All of yew. Every inch of sick, twisted yew," Ethan replied, "And I'm the only one who hasn't left yet. I been nothin' but good to yew. Yew really wanna fuckin' push me out?"

Spencer took a shaky breath and kept his eyes trained on the floor as they grew watery.

Ethan folded his arms, "I'm the only one that can make yew cry like that, and that's why yew couldn't stand to be with me. Pushed me toward my girl, and frankly, I'm glad yew did. And him? That football play'r that yew want in your bed so bad?"

Derek flinched as Ethan's eyes landed on him, "Yer going to push him off too. When he gets too close. He hasn't yet, but he will. I mean, God. He loves ya already. I don't blame him. I mean, look atcha. Yer beautiful."

Ethan locked eyes with Spencer, "I'm tellin' ya this 'cause yer my best friend. Yer my brother, and yer a selfish dick. But, by God, aren' yew incredible at throwin' away everything good that comes yer way? So, listen'a me and listen good."

Spencer closed his eyes and he sniffed once more, a tear falling from his right eye as he opened it.

Ethan finished, pointing one strong finger at Derek while staring straight at Spencer, "Don't fuck this up. I see yer startin' already."

Spencer stood up, "Well, since you're so sure I'll ruin everything, why bother asking me not to?"

Ethan replied, "'cause I love ya, man."

"I know," Spencer said quietly, storming out of the room by way of the hallway. Moments later, they heard a door slam.

Ethan shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, looking over at Derek, "And then, there were two."

Derek looked up at him from the couch, "I oughta knock you right in your face for talking to him like that."

Ethan let out a chuckle, "Good. If ya didn't wanna hit me righ' now, I'd be worried."

Derek stood, looking straight at him, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?"

Ethan flat out laughed, leaning over the couch to grab his jacket off of the side arm, saying as he picked it up, "'cause I jus' helped yew out. He says he'll think 'bout it, and he will. But, if I didn't jus' give him a verbal ass whoopin'… you'd never have a chance with him. I don't know why, but the dumb fuck wants to die alone no matter who's beggin' for his hand. Don't feel bad he turned ya down, mah man, he'd turn down anyone that makes him smile. Doesn't think he deserves it." Derek watched as Ethan put his brown leather jacket on and strode to the door saying, "Go to him. Five bucks he's at the barre tearing a ligament. Last time I pissed him off like that, he wrote a ballet. Like… an entire ballet. Both parts. It took days to pull him off of it."

"Oh!" Ethan paused at the door, hand on the handle to turn and add, "If yew hurt him... I'll drug ya, tie ya up, drown ya in the Pacific, no one'll ever find yer body, yadda yadda."

Derek replied, "You don't have to give me the speech."

Ethan smiled sadly, "Dude, I know. But, when it comes tuh that boy, I'm the only one he got who will."

Derek quieted once more and the sounds of a string instrument flowed from the hallway.

Ethan sighed, rolling his eyes, "Great. He's got Tchaikovsky out."

Derek crinkled his eyebrows, "What about Tchaikovsky?"

Ethan answered, "That's his '_fuck off don't touch me_' music."

Derek breathed, "Wow, you know… everything about this kid."

"He lets you call him 'kid'?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Derek cocked his head to the side, "Yeah. Is that weird?"

Ethan replied, "Very."

Derek smiled a bit, "Huh."

Ethan opened the door, "Well, this has been a good 'mount of awkward for the day. Jus' a bit of advice!" he turned and finished with a wink before leaving through the door, "Kiss him once at the base of his ribs on the left side and he'll be putty in yer hands. But watch out with that, 'cause if you keep doin' it, he gets a lil into it. If yer decent it'll freak ya out, I promise."

Derek paused, "And... if I'm not decent?"

Ethan shuddered, "Go nuts. It's yer funeral."

Well, doesn't he know how to make an exit. Huh. Derek has decided that he dislikes Ethan. But, he wasn't sure if it was out of jealousy or spite. Derek walked up to the door and checked to see if it was locked before heading down the hall and making sure Spencer was okay.

The violin sounds were very practiced and precise, much like his dancing, but without all of the passion. Derek peeked into the room and Spencer stood at the barre, barefoot and fuming. His eyes were closed and his sweatpants rolled to his calf as he rose up to demi and reached his fingers out in front of him. He leaned down and stretched his back leg straight behind him in a crisp, methodical stance. Spencer raised his head to look at Derek, cheeks shiny with recently shed tears. He made a gruff noise, raising his sleeve to wipe at his face, "What are you doing here?"

Derek walked over to Spencer's bed and stood beside him, placing a hand over his on the barre, "Ethan just tore you a metaphorical new one, and you could probably use a hug right now."

Spencer sniffed blearily, "I could."

Derek wrapped an arm around Spencer's shoulder and the dancer let out a shaky breath as he knocked Derek's arm out of the way and wrapped his arms around his neck. Spencer buried his face into Derek's shoulder and clung to him. Derek let out a melancholy smile, holding Spencer against his chest and rocking him to a slow rhythm. Spencer sniffed once more and Derek rubbed his cheek against Spencer's.

Spencer suddenly pushed himself out of Derek's arms, "Okay, yeah. That's enough. Thank you."

Derek retorted, "Ain't no thang."

"Yeah, it is," Spencer chuckled wetly before sighing, "Do you really think I'm that selfish? That I'm using people for attention?"

Derek shook his head, "There's no way I can know for sure, but even if you were, that wouldn't make you a bad guy."

Spencer played with his fingers absently, "Wouldn't it, though?"

Derek patted the man's shoulder, "No. Kid, the only thing that would make you is human."

Spencer looked up at him with pleading eyes, "You've gotta believe me, man, I _hate_ attention. Like seriously. I hate it. But, dancing… it's my life. It's the only thing that's real and pure to me, and I don't know what I would do without it. The spotlight's a necessary evil if I actually want to make money doing what I love, you know? And I truly love it. With all that I am, I love it."

Derek smiled hesitantly, "I know you do. It's obvious as hell."

"But, I swear that I—_God_! One second. Fuck this music right now! It's killing me," Spencer reached down to yank his iPod out of the dock walking over to sit on his bed moodily, "I've got bills, I've got student loans, I'm balancing both a Netflix and a Hulu account for crying out loud! I'm not doing the show because I want to be looked at, I swear."

Derek scoffed and followed him to the bed, plucking a tendril of fluffy brown curls from behind Spencer's ear as he took a seat beside him, "Well, duh. Why else would you peek out under this messy mane all the time?"

Spencer gasped and pushed his hair back behind his ear, "You don't like my hair?!"

Derek chuckled, "Hey, hey. Not that at all. I'm just saying… maybe you're skipping your trips to the barber on purpose."

Spencer folded his arms, "I'm doing no such thing."

Derek spoke, "Of course you are. When you're nervous, you push your hair behind your left ear and let the right side hang loose so you can hide behind it. If it was shorter, you'd have to look people in the eye."

Spencer hissed, "Hide behind…? I've never heard anything stupider."

Derek pointed to Spencer's left ear.

Spencer pressed a hand to his ear and noticed that his hair was pushed back, "Holy shit. I never noticed I did that."

Derek replied, "You do it a billion times a day, how can you not realize it?"

Spencer raised his eyebrows at him, "Well, you lick your lips a lot, so..."

Derek licked his lip, "No, I don't."

Spencer chuckled and pointed, "You just—"

Derek growled, "I know, shut up."

Spencer struggled to hide his mirth.

Derek leaned back until his back hit the bed and Spencer did the same.

Spencer looked over at him, "Wanna have sex?"

Derek laughed, "That was the most unsubtle subject change to ever exist, dude."

Spencer looked back up toward the ceiling, "What? I was just noting that you and me are in bed together and we're not drunk and we both want it, so...you know."

Derek added, "I'm not saying I'm uninterested, it's just… I came in here to make you feel better. Not like… sexually, just in an emotional support kind of way."

Spencer shrugged, "And I'm aware of that fact. Just saying. I appreciate the way you kissed me on that couch and I wanted to make sure you were aware that, you know, I suck a mean dick."

Derek coughed in surprise, "Wow, okay. Good to know."

Spencer sidenoted, "I mean it. Seriously, dude. Something was botched when my tonsils were removed when I was a kid and I haven't had a gag reflex since I was eight. I can cram an entire banana down there and not blink."

Derek paused, "...um."

Spencer continued, "Don't let the doctorates fool you, I am probably the dirtiest cocksucker on this side of the Americas. I've got this deep throat technique that—"

"Whoa!" Derek barked out a laugh, reaching down to adjust his pants, "Mental pictures, kid!"

Spencer finished, "And Ethan was lying about the puppy thing. _Yes_, I'm loud in bed, but I see it as exercising my freedom of speech. It's a right bestowed upon me by my country. So, if I'm taking it up the ass, I have the right to express that _not only_ have you hit my sweet spot, but that I want you to do it _harder_, you know? Get crazy with it. I'm not a chick, okay? I don't break easy. If you pound me like an animal, nine times out of ten, I'll beg for more."

Derek reached over, slightly breathless from the laughing, "Stop, please!"

"I'll stop! I will! I just don't want you to think I'm a one-trick pony. I can fuck you too, if that's what you want," Spencer replied.

Derek gasped out in between chuckles, "Dude, I get it. Seriously. I'm not breathing oxygen."

"No, no. You're gonna want to hear this. I got this move that I call 'Bethoveen's Fifth'," Spencer glanced over at him with a smile on his face as he leaned up on one hand and shimmied his hips, humping the air, "It's like one-two-three-_hold it_. One-two-three-_hold it_. You get it? It's like the song. It goes dun, dun, dun, dunnnn. Dun, dun, dun, dunnnn."

Derek pressed his forearm into his face as he laughed, "Dear God, no!"

Spencer added with a chuckle, "And I've got another one called 'Oprah'." Spencer referenced an imaginary audience, "It's this thing where I make you climax over and over again like '_you_ get an orgasm, and _you_ get an orgasm, and _you_ get an orgasm'. It only works on women though."

Derek turned away from Spencer and buried his face into the sheets, cracking up.

Spencer supplemented, "And there's this other thing that I refer to as 'the Pythagorean Theorem'. You gotta double up the pelvic force and hit it twice at a time. If you do that, the person you're fucking comes twice as hard, because A squared plus B squared equals… _C_ squared. You understand? It's all in the hips and the pubic triangle."

Derek shook his head, lost in his pile of chuckles. His hand was on his stomach which felt like it was about to burst from the sudden workout it was getting.

"And you really gotta got at it, man, this isn't a game." Spencer added with a thrust, "It's like a workout too, you know? You kill two birds."

Derek started wiping tears from underneath his eyes as he laughed into the quilt.

Spencer snickered once and settled, laying back down, "Wow, look at you. You're a mess."

Derek raised his pointer finger, begging for a second to catch his breath.

Spencer shrugged, "It's okay, man, take your time."

Derek lifted his head from the bed, saying in a sore, chuckle riddled voice, "No one makes me laugh like that. No one."

Spencer replied easily, "Well, no one thinks I'm funny but you, so I have to milk it whenever I get the opportunity."

Derek leaned up on his arm and smiled up at him, "See, I knew those sex positions were bullshit."

Spencer shook his head, "No. They're really not."

Derek grinned, "Yes, they are."

Spencer shrugged, "Yeah, maybe I embellished a little bit. There's no such thing as 'The Oprah'."

"I'm sure there isn't. And while I love laughing with you…" Derek shimmied closer to him and placed a hand at Spencer's waist.

Spencer sighed and looked away, "You think I should talk. About what Ethan said."

Derek replied, "It's probably best if you do. At the absolute worst, you'll get some stuff off of your chest. It's hard keeping stuff in. Especially stuff like that."

"I know, it's just..." Spencer stared into Derek's eyes and said tentatively, "… you're _right_, and I wish you weren't."

Derek grabbed Spencer's hand in his, "Where do you want to start?"

Spencer threaded his fingers with Derek's, "My dad."

* * *

The two of them ended up curled together under Spencer's sheets, hands locked and facing each other, resting on pillows as Spencer spoke. He had told Derek of his father just up and leaving him one day. He watched as he packed the car with his clothes and walked out without even saying goodbye. Spencer looked up at Derek, "I'm kind of scared to tell you the rest. I've never actually _told_ anybody the rest…"

Derek said simply, "If you don't want to, you don't have to. But, you shouldn't ever feel scared to tell me anything. You could have murdered a man, and I still wouldn't treat you any less."

Spencer stiffened.

Derek's eyes widened comically, "Dude, seriously?!"

Spencer sighed, "I should probably tell you the whole story from the beginning."

Derek nodded his head, "Yeah, you probably should."

"Well… while I was getting my second doctorate at MIT, I started tutoring Ethan. I was only seventeen at the time and he was twenty one, but we just had this connection with each other. I had the biggest crush on him, and I was such a dork. Like, seriously. You think I'm a poindexter now? You should have seen the giant glasses/geeky retainer/90's perm combo. Sexy."

Derek laughed out, "Dude, we've all been there. Puberty is not kind. I was like 5'2'' until I was sixteen. With jheri curls. And two beard hairs."

"I wouldn't have told that," Spencer chuckled, prodding at Derek, "Anyway, after a few months, I was trying to explain the steps of complex differential equations and he just kissed me from across the Chem book. Out of nowhere. My retainer was still in and I think my glasses smacked him in the face. He was my first kiss, and even though there was an age difference... I don't know. We clicked and before the end of the fall semester he was my first time too. In the Spring, I switched to be in the same dorm hall as him, and by the time he was in the Master's program, we were rooming together in the Honors dorm."

Derek murmured, "Wow, that's quick."

Spencer laughed, "We had a _great_ relationship until we started living together. We never cheated on each other or anything, it was just… all wrong. Whenever we'd sleep in the same bed, I would wake up with his elbow in my armpit and my hair in his mouth. He never cleaned up unless I threatened him, and the shit he kept in his fridge made me want to puke. He practiced his piano at all times of the night, and since headphones 'killed his vibe', he wouldn't use them. We fought so much, that our suitemates kept calling Public Safety on us until we broke up."

Derek laughed, "Damn."

"Oh, dude, you don't even know," Spencer sighed with a wistful smile, "I moved out like God had called me, and we tried to keep screwing on the side as just buds, but then we'd start fighting again. During the sex. Half of the time, we didn't even finish."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "And when you did?"

Spencer moaned in remembrance, "He'd make me come so hard, I'd be speaking Portuguese for like five minutes. Dude fucked me into another nationality."

Derek breathed, "Whoa."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "He was _good_, but he wasn't all that, trust me. I was just going through a sexual awakening and he was the only person fucking me, so my mind just..." Spencer shuddered, "Ugh! Eww. God. We realized that we shouldn't be having sex with each other. It's wrong on a spiritual level. It just disrupts the universe altogether. The minute the sex stopped, we suddenly became friends. Best friends actually. He met Katherine and we've had all remnants of sexual attraction ripped from our brains after years of familiarity—thank God. He's like my brother now," Spencer said with a sigh, "I graduated, and, while I danced a little in my free time it never really meant anything. It was just something I liked to do when no one was looking, you know? A form of release. But, you know me, if I like something, I study it to death. One night, I had watched Swan Lake and I loved it so much that I was dancing a bit of it in the kitchen the next day while I made sandwiches for me and Ethan's Tom Baker marathon. Little did I know, he had videotaped me dancing the warlock's part while grilling cheese and sent it to Julliard as a prank. They were intrigued by my style and I got myself an audition.

"I did the same warlock dance, but corrected the moves directly from the tape. In the audition, everything they'd shown me, I could do after two or three tries at it. They were shocked that I could recall and put forth images so well, and when I told them that I had an eidetic memory, it all made sense to them. They let me study there with a scholarship thanks to my deadbeat dad, and I was on the track to becoming a premier danseur."

Derek paused, "Eidetic memory? What's that?"

Spencer replied, "It's like a birth defect. I was born with a glitch in my frontal lobe that allows me to memorize things at a very quick speed. I haven't forgotten anything I've read since See Spot Run, and that helped vastly with me graduating high school at the age of 12. Apparently, the memorization of a move can be applied to it as well, and I would learn dances very quickly. After three years, I became the surreptitious understudy to the main performers. You know, always a bridesmaid, never a bride. There, I met Maeve, a ballerina in the American Dance Corps and fellow scholar. She and I hit it off and had a thing for a few months. It wasn't long before we fell in love. We'd spend hours talking, hid away in libraries, and had chess tournaments that got so serious, it was crazy. I swore she was The One. I introduced her to my mother and everything. Even though I never told her that I loved her, I... I carried a ring around for when I finally got the guts. I... I wanted to marry her one day. She introduced me to ballroom and while I started to teach pre-recs for Julliard, I took beginner dance classes with her. By then, I was in my mid-twenties, and… this is where it gets bad."

Derek held on to his hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

"We were out one day, playing chess in the park. It was cold. Wintertime. And this woman came out of nowhere and mugged us. I gave her my wallet, but Maeve wouldn't budge. I told her to just hand it over, but Maeve wouldn't. She said she had something in it that was to valuable. Something she couldn't give away, not yet. So, the mugger got impatient, pulled out a gun and shot her. The woman ran and Maeve... she died right in front of me," Spencer said barrenly, eyes growing dark, "I asked for her purse when the ambulance came and when I looked inside it, it was a folded piece of paper. Inside it was a ring, and on the paper was this quote: 'Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it with another' -Thomas Merton. She wanted to be with me too."

Derek winced, "Oh, my God. Man, I'm so sorry."

"Shit happens," Spencer added, "I never fully recovered from it. She's kind of why I started ballroom. She loved it so much, and at first, it was my way to cope with losing her. I signed up for more classes and within a few months, it hurt less and less. I wasn't quite over her, but something helped. You see, there was this ballroom dancer named Toby Hankel. He was brilliant. This man had strength, agility, a crispness that just couldn't be taught, and he specialized in partner dancing. He was my instructor and he taught me a lot, but he really liked grabbing at me during the lessons. He'd correct my posture and his hand would travel past the Bible belt, if you know what I mean. But, I didn't mind it, you know, he was really, really cute. Kinda had this dangerous thing going on. Like one of those guys on Dawson's Creek."

Derek chuckled, "Hot for teacher, huh?"

"You have literally no room to talk," Spencer nudged Derek, "Anyway, he asked to see me after class one day, one thing led to another, and he damn near blew my back out fucking me in the changing rooms. I was like a blushing little school girl in class the next day, I mean, he screwed me _so_ rough _just_ like I like it and there he was at the front of the class when no one knew what we'd done the night before. It was so stupid, but... I got off on it. Being a little bad."

Derek gasped, "You let your teacher feel you up after class? You are such a fucking dance stereotype."

"Once again. No room to talk." Spencer replied, "We just started doing it like bunnies; seeing each other in weird-ass places. He was serious about the whole 'no one can know' thing. But, whenever I would go over his house, he'd be hush-hush about more than the sex. He did… stuff."

Derek asked confusedly, "Stuff like… drugs?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah. And he offered, but I always said 'no.'"

Derek grinned, "Good for you, man."

"Don't congratulate me just yet," Spencer retorted, "He got me an interview to be a professional dancer on Dancing With the Stars about six years ago, and I don't know how he did it, but I swore up and down that he was the greatest man on the planet. I nearly worshiped him. We'd only been undercover lovers for three months, but, this was one hell of a present. I aced the interview, and I signed a season deal. Danced with Katy Perry, and wow. She has an awesome set of tits."

Derek's eyes widened, "You fucked Katy Perry?!"

Spencer scoffed, "Hell no. I was just saying. She has a great rack."

"Oh," Derek replied.

Spencer continued, "So, when Katy and I got sent home, me and Toby had 'too bad you got eliminated' sex, and… he offered me a shot of Dilaudid afterward. I said no, again, and he acted like it was no big deal. I went to sleep beside him and when I woke up… I was high as a fucking kite."

Derek nearly sat up in a flurry of anger, "He Bobby Brown'd you?!"

Spencer nodded, tugging on his sleeve around his wrist, "Yeah. He Bobby Brown'd me. And it felt so… amazing."

Derek breathed, "Spencer, no."

"Let me keep going. If I stop, I'll never finish," Spencer answered steadily, taking a breath before continuing, "I still didn't want it, but at night when I slept, he would dose me and I would wake up every day feeling so good. I knew I should have left. Every day, I knew. But, I didn't. I kept coming back, letting him in, sleeping in his bed, and waking up betrayed again. He was poison, and I still held him on a pedestal. Leaving him terrified me. He kept getting more violent with it. When we'd have sex, he'd dope me up during it. Even if I passed out, he'd continue with me until he was done. He'd hit me, rough me up, pretty much do whatever he wanted to me when I was high. My reaction time was too slow, and it made me the perfect toy. He made me feel so defenseless. Weak. He gave me too much one day. I overdosed once and he pulled me back somehow. I tried to fight him, I really did, but he was always ready for it. And one day, I got him.

"That night, I was blissed out of my mind. My high was coming down and he had tied my hands and put me in a chair and… he had this revolver in his hand, the sick fuck. It had one bullet in it, and he knew where it was. He kept pointing it at my chest, telling me that when he pulled, there was one in six chances it would kill me. One in five. One in four. One in three. I don't know what I was thinking, but I slipped the rope and tried to wrestle the gun from him. He tackled me to the ground. He hit me on the face, all over my body. Then he held it to my forehead and told me that this one had the bullet in it. He told me that for rebelling against him, he should just shoot me right then and there. I don't know how I did it, but I got the gun from him and made a break for the front door. He ran toward me and nearly got it back, clearly intent on ending me once and for all, and… I… I shot him." Spencer said quietly, "I killed him.

"I called the police on myself right after I did it. I was still high when I got my prints taken, but it was clear to everyone that it was an accident. I was beat down, blood all over me, I looked like shit. Ethan came to ID me, because I left my wallet at Toby's and I was crying so much that I could barely talk. My lawyer came down and a day later, all my paperwork was in and my killing him was listed as self-defense within the week. The show was pissed at me, and threatened not to take me back in for another season, but upon hearing my case from my lawyer, they reconsidered." Spencer replied.

Derek breathed, "Oh, my God."

Spencer spoke, "I was set to do the next season, and I agreed to it, but there were complications. Before I got taken in by the police, I took some vials off of Toby and hid them."

Derek shook his head, "Spencer..."

"I know, okay?! I fucked up! Again! I don't know why you're still surprised at this point!" Spencer yelled out angrily, taking a deep breath and continued, "Trust me, detox was a major bitch. I did not want to go through that again. But, I itched for it even after I got clean. Oh, God, I needed it. And after I got eliminated the second time, I used it as an excuse. I would be out of the public eye. I would be off camera for a few months. No one would see me do it. So, I sat on my bathtub, loaded it up, and I took it. Then, when it wore off, I took more. And I took more. And when my stash ran out, I went looking for even more, because thanks to Toby, I knew where to get it. I… I became an... 'addict'. I felt disgusting. Unclean. I hated myself, and I hated my addiction even more, but for the life of me I couldn't stop. God, I couldn't fucking stop!" he pushed his hair behind his ear several times in a row and his voice wavered, "I tried to do another season and the board laughed at me when I interviewed for it. I was so fucking strung out, man, you don't even know. I stopped cutting my hair, I didn't shave, I didn't iron, I _staggered_ into the office for Christ's sake, I—shit, I'm sorry," Spencer apologized as his eyes filled up.

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" Derek reached over and wiped the tears away with his thumbs, kissing at his face, "You want to cry, you can just cry alright, come here," Derek pulled him in closer and held him against his chest.

The dancer wept into Derek's shirt, clinging to him. Neither of them said a word for a few minutes. Spencer needed to catch his breath. Holding him closer, Derek ran his hands soothingly down his back as he took in the information. He's a little (a lot) shocked by the news . Spencer's killed. Spencer's been addicted to drugs. Spencer's had some serious shit flung at him from every angle, and he still remained so strong. And he trusted Derek enough to tell him all of this. There's no way he would feel less about Spencer. Hell. If anything, Derek loves him even more for trust him enough to share his life with him.

Spencer sniffed into Derek's shoulder, "I can't believe I've made such a shit show of my life. Do you hate me? I wouldn't blame you. I would hate me. I _do_ hate me."

Derek pulled back and looked into Spencer's red, tear stained face, "Hate you? I never could. Yeah, life hasn't been kind to you and you fucked up pretty bad, but damn if you didn't pick yourself up from virtually nothing and become so much more. You teach, you dance on live television, you've become a strong, independent guy. And you're still smokin' _hot_, man, you are a rare breed. After all those drugs, I don't see not one wrinkle. That's an achievement in its own."

Spencer laughed wetly, "Shut up."

Derek grinned, "No, really. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Hot."

Spencer rolled his eyes, leaning in to be held once more, "Do you want to hear the end of the story, or do you just want to drool over me?"

Derek replied, "Both."

Spencer chuckled and rested his head on Derek's chest, "I got sober by myself. I went to an AA type program and I've been drug-free for four years. Three years ago, the producers of the show deemed me no longer a public embarrassment and I won two mirror balls in that time. I started this class for kids, earned some serious bank, and I've danced premier in the ballet thrice. But, recently, the show force-paired me with this douchebag of a guy, and I've been resisting ripping his clothes off and fucking him on the hardwood because I had no clue he was interested in me. So, yeah, I've been doing alright."

Derek began to laugh, "Aww, that's a happy ending."

Spencer smiled, "I think so too."

Derek pushed a lock of Spencer's hair from his face and leaned in for a soft kiss. Spencer kissed him back tentatively before leaning back, "You… really don't mind that I did drugs and killed somebody?"

"Do you want me to mind?" Derek asked.

Spencer replied, "Not really, but you've been so good to me that I can hardly believe it. You're such a great guy, and you care so much about me… I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?"

Derek responded, "I'm really not as great as you assume."

Spencer asked, "How so?"

Derek paused, "…well, if you can spill your guts, I can too, right?"

Spencer shook his head fervently, "No, man, are you kidding? That was hard as shit. You don't have to tell me _anything_ if you don't want to. You can even keep your middle name a secret, and I would not care."

Derek pressed his hand to the side of Spencer's face, "I want to. I do. You've shared something with me that you haven't shared with anybody before. Hell, my life is a walk down the block compared to yours."

Spencer poked at Derek's chest, "Fine. Just… don't feel compelled on my account."

Derek asked the dancer, "So, you really don't want to know?"

Spencer grinned, "Like hell. I'm so curious, it makes no sense."

"Awesome… awesome," Derek took a deep breath as his heart quickened, "I'll tell you. I… am going to tell… you. That's what I'm going to do."

Spencer's eyes widened, "Are you okay?"

Derek's brow started to sweat, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm going to tell you. Something I've never told anyone before. Just be patient with me."

Spencer nodded, gripping Derek's hand in his the way Derek held his just moments ago, "Take your time, man."

Derek licked his lips nervously, "My dad… my dad passed away when I was ten. He was a cop, got killed in the line of duty… and it tore my family up. My sisters kept together and wouldn't go to sleep without each other. My mom was just… useless. For months. Desi did all of the cooking and Sarah did the cleaning while we lived off of his life insurance check and police pension. While it was a big help, it wasn't enough. We were put on welfare, and my mom tried so hard to go back to work, she did. But, it wasn't working for her. She hadn't had time to heal, and she wouldn't accept the fact that Dad was gone."

Spencer breathed, "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Derek replied, "…we needed money. Bad. Or the landlord was going to kick us out. He was already a racist dick, and he was just waiting for us to slip up on rent. So, I made the wrong friends. I was only eleven at the time, but since I was so young, the gang of guys I hung with knew that I wouldn't get caught if I were to steal anything. I was small, innocent looking, unassuming. Who would guess a fifth grader was in a gang? No one," Derek sighed and added, "So, I stole shit. At first, I hit convenience stores and the like, but I got real good at it. Got my hands on some dirty money. And when I say dirty money, I mean… filthy.

"The gang thought I was good enough to score a big heist, so they got me to break into the chief of police's house and steal three cases of police issued guns. I did it and didn't get caught, so the gang… we were packing heat now. Thanks to me. Then they started offing guys that had done them wrong, and by that time, I knew that there was no way out. All of this blood was on my hands, I couldn't take it. So, I went into a Winn-Dixie and got myself seen on purpose, stuffing Mars Bars down my shirt. Detective Gordinski gave me my first arrest at twelve-years-old, and started watching me like a hawk after that," Derek spoke.

Spencer gasped, "Shit."

Derek nodded, "You're telling me. The gang was real pissed, my mom was disgraced, and I started slipping. Detective nailed me on everything. I breathed funny and he was taking me in, interrogating me until finally, one day, I squealed about the guns. He locked my ass up for it, too. Two months in Juvey. It would have been ten if I didn't give them names. When I got out, my mom enrolled me in this community center. I had to get right, she said, before high school at the very least. The gang was done with me completely. They didn't know I gave the cops their names, but they decided that it was their fault for letting a kid join their group anyway and—"

A phone started to ring in the background, singing _Don't ya wish your girlfriend was hot like me, don't ya wish your girlfriend was a freak like me._ Spencer clamored into his back pocket and hastily pulled it out as it rang. He glanced at it to turn it off and placed it at the bedside table, reaching over and grabbing Derek's hand once more, "Sorry."

"Please change you're ringtone," Derek replied.

Spencer agreed, "Okay. Continue."

Derek nodded in forgiveness and continued, "The community center had lots of programs and shit, and I had to choose one or they'd kick me out, so I chose football. I've never done it before, but it seemed easy. Two years later, I was surprisingly good at it, and the coach took notice. He said I was a natural talent and made me second string in our games. He said he could make me even better if he worked with me alone and I believed him. I mean, why wouldn't I? I was with a better group of kids. My mom was finally back at work. I was in high school then, and time came around to get right for college if I was ever gonna go. So, I… I, uh… God… I…" Derek paused and started to take deep breaths.

Spencer held tighter onto his hand, "Derek, are you alright?"

Derek took several breaths, "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked.

Derek nodded, "I'm fine. I… I, uh. I took Coach up on his offer and he started working with me. He made good on his offer, and I got better. Like, better than I was before. I was pushed up to team runningback, and with his help, I was really excelling. I never knew I could believe in myself like that. Hell, I never thought anyone could believe in me like that. But, I could do it, you know? It was inside me the whole time. I didn't need him, but, God, I thought that I did."

Spencer kissed Derek's hand, "That's great, babe."

Derek asked, "Babe?"

Spencer went red, "Ignore me, continue."

Derek rubbed his forehead against Spencer's, "I never could ignore you."

Spencer leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, "Nor I you."

Derek looked into Spencer's eyes deeply, his looks hopefully conveying what he couldn't in words. He feels for Spencer so deeply and wholly right at this moment, that he doesn't even know how to express it. Maybe the best way to start was to finish telling Spencer who he was. All of who he was. Put his soul on the table just like Spencer did. Become an open book.

He spoke, "When I was fifteen, he… he invited me to the cabin he'd go to sometimes. He offered me a beer like I was a grown up, and I felt so cool. It tasted like shit, and I expected that, but it made me look older so I kept drinking it. By the time I had finished the bottle, I was buzzed, bleary eyed, and his hand was making its way up my leg. I had a feeling of what he wanted. He got up on me real fast and I… I tried to push him off, but he was just so heavy. He pinned… he-he grabbed my hands over my head and…"

Spencer shook his head, "No."

Derek's voice quieted, eyes seeing past Spencer as he remembered those words hissing into his ear, "He told me that I could kick and yell all I wanted, the cabin was so deep in the woods that no one would ever hear me scream," his voice broke at the final word, "And if I was had my wits about me, I'd be a good boy and not tell nobody, or Desi and Sarah were next."

Spencer pressed his hand against his own mouth, "No."

"Yes," Derek answered, heart beat escalating as his breaths came in gasps, "And he didn't stop either. He kept… God, help me, he kept doing it. It got worse every time, and… I just… I should have… I couldn't even—I—shit…" Derek pressed his hands against his chest as the room seemed to close in on him. Everything seemed too hot and too cold. He could feel the heat of the fire crackling in the cabin and smell the pine needles in the air. He could hear that slimy voice in his ear telling him to stop crying as he tried to scramble away, yelling as loudly as he could, blood running down his legs.

There were arms around him and Derek pushed and pushed at them until they got off, he yelled against them, "Stop! Don't you..."

The voice said his name in that deep, sick voice, "Derek."

Derek was surrounded by it. It pulsed above, underneath, beside him. All over. All he wanted was to be away from it. His feet were on the floor, but it followed him. Wherever he went, it would always follow him. The voice wanted him. _He_ wanted him.

There was a door between them. Finally! Back away! Get away! Oh, thank God, there's a toilet in here! Derek yanked up the lid, leaned over it and threw up into it. There was stuff in his mouth, he could feel it, slimy, slick, dirty, shouldn't be there. He threw up once more, the motion calming him down.

A soft hand was rubbing his back over and over again in a soothing motion. _He_ would never do that. _He_ never even thought of aftercare. _He_ just left him used and scared and alone on the floor, throwing his harshly wrinkled clothes at him as if he were part of the dusty wood. Derek looked up into a pair of brown eyes, and they weren't _his_. They were soft and kind, beautiful and strong.

Derek laughed pitifully, "Fuck. I just spazzed out on you, didn't I?"

Spencer shrugged, smiling over at him from the tub, "Just a little."

Derek smiled back weakly, "I'd just like to say that I'm sorry for pushing you, and I'm still partially freaked out, so I'd keep that distance."

Spencer raised his palms easily, "I was a child prodigy at a Las Vegas public school. You shove like a nine-year-old girl."

Derek laughed again, leaning his forehead against the wall, "Good. I've never said the tail end of that story out loud before. Especially not to someone else. I just didn't expect it to bring up such _vivid_... you know... crap."

Spencer waved it off, "As far as panic attacks go, yours was actually pretty short. You know the average span of them is-"

"Dude," Derek sighed.

Spencer muttered, "Sorry."

Derek added, "No big. I mean, I tossed my cookies in your toilet, so... yeah. Still pretty tense."

"And that is perfectly fine. Snap at me all you want. I deserve it after the past few weeks," Spencer laughed, brushing a hand against the back of Derek's bald head, "Does it count as a lucky guess if I said you don't want to talk about it?"

Derek paused to spit into the toilet once more, "It would."

Spencer replied, "Alright then, we won't."

Derek added, "Can I rinse my mouth out before you say anything else? I've kind of got… bile in my esophagus."

Spencer kissed Derek's forehead before standing to rifle through the medicine cabinet, "Sure."

Derek added, "Can you call me 'babe' again?"

"You're milking this for all you can, aren't you?" Spencer replied as he searched, pulling out a packet of dollar store toothbrushes and handing Derek one, "Your welcome."

Derek eased himself up from the toilet, closing the lid and flushing it so that he could take the toothbrush, "Thank you."

"Anytime," Spencer shoved at Derek's shoulder.

Derek leaned into the sink and Spencer watched him, speaking as he rinsed his mouth, "I don't know what it is about you, but… I trust you. Completely. Nearly with my life. And for the first time in… forever, every instinct is telling me I'm right. Am I?"

Derek looked up at him from the sink, "Are you kidding me? I just bore my soul and had a panic attack in front of you. I trust you more than my mom. This thing's mutual."

Spencer smiled blearily, "Wow. Well… stranger has happened."

Derek scoffed, loading the toothbrush up with paste, "Fucking telling me."

Spencer reached over and touched Derek's free hand, holding it firmly, "Derek, I just... I have a _thing_ for you."

Derek chuckled, "No shit, man. You humped my leg on the couch, I may not have a doctorate, but damn boy, I've got eyes."

"Hey now, jerk," Spencer stuck is tongue out and sighed, clinging to the hand, "I meant that. I don't know what it is, but I just want you to know that I want you cock, but… it goes deeper than that. What I don't know is _how_ deep. You understand?"

Derek mumbled around the toothbrush with a laugh, "I'm trying so hard not to say 'that's what she said'."

Spencer folded his arms, "I'll smack you and not give one fuck."

Derek smiled and brushed, "Fine, fine, fine. I'll comply. You want my body and a lil something extra, is that what you're getting at?"

"No! That's not it! I just... God. I'm like allergic to talking about my feelings. You know that, right?" Spencer sucked his teeth impatiently.

Derek said between brushes, "Well, your best friend had to insult you to the point where you had an emotional breakdown just so you'd talk to me, so… yeah. I'm pretty aware of your allergy."

"Well, then _listen_!" Spencer tried again, voice raising, "I'm sexually attracted to you, I'm emotionally attached to you, and I trust you a great deal! If anything were to ever happen to you, I don't know what I'd do! Our friendship is way too strong and it scares me! What the hell is happening?!"

Derek spit out the foam into the sink and gave Spencer an unimpressed look, "That's love, you fucktard."

Spencer paused, "…no. No. It can't be."

Derek asked, bending down to rinse, "Why?"

Spencer responded, "I don't know you."

Derek replied, "You know me better than anyone on this planet. Especially after our story time from Hell."

Spencer answered, "Well… well, that's cuz… you… and me…"

Derek tapped his foot, "Yes, I'm waiting."

Spencer raised his index finger, "I've only known you three weeks."

Derek added, "It will be a month tomorrow and we will have seen each other every single day of it. Loving me at this point is not so strange."

Spencer swayed on his feet, "I'm losing this argument."

"You think?" Derek leaned over the sink to rinse his mouth out.

Spencer folded his arms, "S-so what? This doesn't change anything. I can't love you."

Derek spit out the water and stood back up, "Why not?"

Spencer spoke with a wry smile, "I'm still your instructor, and it's still inappropriate."

Derek blinked, "And?"

Spencer made a face, "_And_ you're making this harder than it has to be."

Derek shrugged, "Ain't nothing to me. If you don't love me now—which you do, by the way…"

Spencer pitched in, "_Don't_."

Derek finished, "Then, I'll just _wait_ until you do. I'll respect you, and hold you close, and treat you right, and be there for you as hard as I can until you fall in love with me, Spencer Reid. And when you do, I'll do all of that even harder."

Spencer took a deep breath, and kept his eyes locked on Derek.

Derek looked right back at him.

Spencer spoke, "So… so, you're saying you love me?"

Derek scoffed and walked past him to Spencer's bedroom, "I won't give you the satisfaction of knowing."

* * *

Derek woke up in the most comfortable bed he's ever been in. The quilts were warm and soft, the pillow was plump and cushiony. He breathed in the woodsy vanilla scent. Spencer's bed. Great place to end up. He reached over to wrap an arm around the dancer's body to have it come down on the other side of the mattress.

He popped his head up and looked over at it, "Kid?"

Needless to say, the fuzzy brunette wasn't there. A piece of paper was placed on the pillow in his stead. There, it was written in a sloppy, childlike pen:

_Derek,_

_Good morning. I woke up a little early to use the studio. __I'm not running away from you or anything, I swear. I just dreamt this incredible choreo and I had to get it sketched. I would have done it by the barre in my room, but you were asleep and it was kind of cute, so I just left you there. _

_I laid out a pair of my biggest sweats and a tee shirt for you to practice in if you don't feel like going back to your hotel. There's coffee in the pot and a strawberry Danish beside it. __Feel free to take a shower, and help yourself to anything in the fridge, so on and so forth. Mi casa es su casa. Just don't look in the third left dresser drawer. If you do, whatever you find in there will be shoved up your ass with no warning and I'll make sure you get so weirdly turned on by it, that you'll be sexually confused until you die._

_Have a nice day._

_—Spencer_

Derek chuckled at the note. He is _so_ looking in that drawer. But, for now, he's snoozing. What time is it again? He glanced at the bedside clock. Yeah, he's got an hour until he has to get up.

He snuggled into the pillow, wrapping himself into Spencer's scent. They had a wonderful night after all of the tears and soul bearing. Spencer never stopped kissing him. Talk about an upside. His lips were on Derek's forehead, his cheek, his neck, his mouth, his knuckles. Spencer was just a cuddly little kiss monster, and it was so fucking cute. Until, of course the people in the apartment _directly_ on the other side of their wall started having really loud monkey sex, and they burst out laughing.

Derek laughed harder when Spencer told him that his neighbor's parents were in town for the weekend and the man and woman in there are sixty seven and sixty four years old respectively. Derek joked his surprise that the man could even get it up at that age, nevertheless bang the headboard like that. Spencer chipped in with the statistics of male impotence, and Derek quieted, seeing as his time was approaching. Then, it was Spencer's turn to laugh.

They started shooting the shit after that, fingers intertwined and legs brushing. They spoke in soft voices, and nudged each other flirtatiously. Derek got Spencer to call him 'babe' twice more that night. Once in a joking way, and once more passionately much later in the night. They told each other silly stories about things they've done as kids, bad teacher's they've had, horrible dates they've suffered through.

Around two o'clock in the morning, Spencer gave Derek a long, searching look and stopped talking. Derek paused and asked what was wrong. Spencer replied that everything was fine, everything was perfect. He climbed on top of Derek and pulled his head close to his until they kissed in that soft way over and over again until they fumbled and chuckled and dry humped their way through their first orgasm—well, Spencer's anyway.

Afterwards, Spencer looked up at him and said that he didn't mean to cum so fast and Derek _literally_ laughed it off. He had no qualms at all; the whole event was pitifully short. And when Derek says short, he means like… _short_. Derek's seen Goku's "Kame Hame Ha"s last longer.

Spencer's face had been in his shoulder during the whole event, so he nearly missed it. All he knew was their hips were racing together real fast and rough. And, he'll tell ya, was there nothing like the feeling of Spencer straddling him and humping him 'till the cows came home. He wasn't as gentle in bed as Derek thought he would be. He was nearly rough… just a little soft around the edges. He grabbed firmly, his kisses were deep. The man was practically opening himself up to Derek like he'd never done any of it before—like Derek was the first guy he'd ever humped or something. And that got Derek thinking that maybe Ethan was kind of right. Spencer could be perceived puppy-ish in bed, but only because he fucked like a virgin. Like it was all new to him. Like he'd never been so turned on in his life.

Spencer's hand was cradling the back of his head. He kissed open mouthed along Derek's neck between sharp expletives and moans of encouragement as their denim and sweatpant covered arousals pushed frantically and it. Felt. Awesome.

The sun and the moon collided.

The angels cried.

It was incredible.

All ninety-something seconds of it.

Then, Derek heard an, "Uh! Derek! Oh… _ahh_!" and Spencer bit into his shoulder, cutting off his moans as his hips stilled. Not one moment later, his head popped up, frizzy haired, wide eyed, and face all pink, "Oh, shit! I'm so sorry."

Derek panted out, "Did you just… bust?"

Spencer bit his lip, "It was an accident!"

"Dude, seriously—_dude_." Derek was laughing so hard after hearing it that Spencer sat beside him with his arms folded and the heat glare in his eyes set on the Hell notch, "Don't laugh at me, Derek! I can't believe you're being such a dick about it! I didn't mean to, and you know it. It's just been a while since I was with someone, and you were doing that rolling hip thing which I've never seen before in my life! _And_ you were whispering dirty things in my ear which was just... unfair."

Derek continued to laugh, escalating to a pointed finger in Spencer's direction.

Spencer growled, "I was going to offer to finish you off, but since you feel the need to be a prick..."

Derek slapped his own knee, falling back into the pillow as he laughed harder, "Hey! Hey! Spence! Do you know what they say about premature guys?"

Spencer growled out, "What?"

Derek gasped through his chuckles, "They come out of nowhere!"

"Fuck! That's it! Taste this, jerk!" Spencer hopped on top of Derek and started an impromptu wrestling session. Which he lost.

Less than twenty minutes later, they fell asleep holding each other. Spencer's head on Derek's chest as he wrapped his arms around the dancer's broad shoulders. He woke up at some point in the night to find Spencer sleeping soundly on his chest, snoring lightly. His hair was mussed and his eyelashes were long against his skin. His pink lips were pouted and one of his hands was splayed across Derek's chest, the other thrown across his belly. Derek kissed his hair and Spencer made a little noise of contentment, snuggling closer, the cute little fucker.

So, yeah. He had an alright night.

* * *

**Business:**

**1) PLEASE let me know if I nailed it or failed it when it came to the angst, because this is my first semi-emotional piece and I've never worked with triggers before. I APOLOGIZE IF I'VE OFFENDED with my ignorance. The only references I had were from friends who had experienced these things before and had similar situations with me (minus the smooching, of course). So, blame them.**

**2) I'm going to keep saying this until I'm blue in the face: This story has been nominated for a Profiler's Choice Award in the category of Best Crossover and I'm up against the fantastic Seditionary. I personally love Seds. One of my first M/R fics ever was one from her. So, you can see why I'm scared as all hell to be competing against her. If you feel like it, vote me up, peeps. You have 'till mid-December. Just sayin'.**

**3) The NEXT CHAPTER is going to be pretty sexy, so consider this a warning. IT WILL BE EDITED to fit the guidelines (cuz, I don't feel like getting suspended), so if you want to read the sultry-dirty-naughty-naughtiness in its entirety, it will be on AO3 the following Monday. I'll only take out what's absolutely necessary, though. So, if you're just in for reading the cute clothing removal and follow up, you're in luck, bitches. Cuz, it'll be there.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


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